Wrenfield Hall
by Wannabe Charlotte
Summary: In 1870s England, Bella finds herself without home or family when her father dies.  She secures a position as a housemaid in a country manor belonging to Lord Edward Masen.  The two form a bond that is threatened by class differences and Edward's past.
1. Chapter One

**I previously worked as a newspaper reporter - just the facts, ma'am. This is my first foray into any kind of creative writing. Criticism is WELCOMED. I'm particularly concerned about the pacing of the story - please let me know if it starts to draaaaag.**

**Chapter One**

There it was. Wrenfield Hall.

The small, cloaked figure stopped as she rounded the bend in the road and caught first sight of the stone country house, standing imposingly large and dark in the waning light. It was near nightfall and the two-mile walk from the village seemed too short. Could she already be there?

The girl resumed her walk, her heart minutely heavier with every step. Rock crunched underfoot as a lonely wind suddenly flattened her cloak against her back and legs, propelling her forward. The early September day had been warm but the night had turned chill and held the promise of colder nights still.

As the distance to the great house shortened, the girl lifted her chin, straightened her shoulders and ascended the stairs to the great front entrance.

**-xxx-**

Edward Masen tossed the small leather-bound volume on the wooden table at the side of his gold colored wing chair and stood up, a picture of restlessness and frustration. He approached the large fireplace in which a fire burned brightly in the richly appointed room. He loved this room, with its scarlet walls and deep walnut wainscoting. It was his favorite room for after dinner reading, letter writing and reflection.

But tonight, Edward found it hard to concentrate. His earlier conversation with his younger brother, James, weighed heavily on his mind. The solution James had proposed was distasteful to Edward, but he was not in a good position to bargain.

Edward shook his head, as if to clear his mind. He crossed the room, poured himself another scotch and returned to the warmth of the fireplace. The flickering light highlighted the tall man's slender yet muscular frame and threw golden light on his defined cheekbones and furrowed brow. A lock of his unruly bronze hair fell on his forehead and he absentmindedly raked it out of the way. He stood, again lost in thought as he heard the efficient _click clack_ of footsteps in the great entrance hall, just outside the open door. A moment later, the latch opened and the front door groaned as it swung open.

"Miss Swan?" inquired a clipped voice.

"Yes ma'am," came the reply, almost too soft to be heard.

"In future, do not use the front entrance. Go around back to the servant's entrance."

"Pardon me," came the soft voice again. "I didn't know."

"You'll learn," the voice said. "Follow me."

Two sets of footsteps crossed back through the great marble hall with its checkerboard floor. Portraits of generations of Masens stared down at the new arrival from their lofty spots on the walls.

Absently, Edward lifted his eyes from the orange flames to observe the two figures walking hurriedly through the hall. His housekeeper, Mrs. Mallory, stout and stern with a ring of keys at her hip strode along. As he watched with disinterest, the smaller dark figure who followed along, clutching a small black case, turned her head to look into the warm and glowing room.

Two dark eyes stood out brightly in her small pale face and her red lips were pressed together as if to keep some emotion under control.

Edward's green eyes narrowed slightly and his head tilted a fraction. _Who?_ he wondered. _Oh, yes, Mrs. Mallory mentioned a new housemaid._

**-xxx-**

The sound of footsteps echoed and disappeared as the two women exited the hall. Edward returned his attention to his glass, threw the amber liquid down his throat and set down the heavy glass.

Isabella Swan followed Mrs. Mallory and her flickering lamp through a long corridor lined with rich paintings and tapestries, broken by the occasional door. Bella imagined she would soon become familiar with what lay behind those doors…the floors that would need scrubbing, the mantles that would need dusting, the windows that would need washing…she sighed.

Down a flight of stairs and through another corridor, plain now, not like the hall upstairs. This was clearly the domain of those who hauled buckets of coal and cleared breakfast dishes.

Soon Mrs. Mallory turned into a doorway, indicating Bella should follow. Inside was a large room with long wooden tables on which stood large knife blocks and baskets, the kind used for gathering carrots and potatoes, apples and pears. Two large brick ovens took up the entirety of the opposite wall and dozens of copper pots and pans hung from racks, gleaming in the firelight.

"Well!" a cheery voice called from behind Bella and Mrs. Mallory. "Who do we have here?"

Bella turned to see a small, softly rounded woman with bright dancing eyes. Her smile was punctuated at either end by round, rosy cheeks.

"Miss Isabella Swan. New housemaid," said Mrs. Mallory "Feed her if she needs it. I'll be back shortly to show her to her room." She turned and left.

"I'm Mrs. Cope," the woman said. "Hungry, dear?" and she bustled off without waiting for an answer.

Bella stood, her black case at her feet, uncertain if she should sit or remain standing. She decided on standing, but began removing her bonnet.

"What a fine day, wouldn't you say, Miss Swan? Oh, that sky was so blue! Thomas - he's the gardener – has just started the apple harvest and there's not much more I love in the world than a crisp new apple under a bright September sky! Then of course we'll have apple dumplings and sauces and puddings – oh I love autumn! Of course the nights get cold but with a warm cover they can be quite cozy and pleasant, I think. Don't you?"

Mrs. Cope turned to Bella, plate in hand, with an expectant smile.

"Well? Sit down, dear, over there by the fire and tell me all about yourself."

Bella took the plate of bread and cheese and sat down where indicated, on a wooden stool worn smooth by years of use. Mrs. Cope settled down in a rocking chair and took knitting out of a basket on the floor.

"Who are you? Who are your people? Are you a local girl or have you come from away?"

Bella took a bite of cheese and chewed slowly. Firelight flickered on her face. After a moment she spoke.

"I come from the village. My father was Constable Charles Swan."

Understanding and sympathy crossed Mrs. Cope's face and she slowly lowered her knitting to her lap.

"Oh, dear…I was so sorry to hear about your father. He was a fine man. I met him just a few times and he left a good impression. Fair, he was, and just."

Bella nodded. The dull ache in her heart that had been there for the last month since her father died sharpened to pain as she thought of her dear, quiet father…

Mrs. Cope sighed and looked at Bella full in the face. She gave a small smile and reached over to pat her hand.

"Well. We're glad to have you, anyway. Mrs. Mallory has been having a right terrible time finding another proper housemaid and everyone worked so hard last week when the Cullens were visiting. Thankfully they've all gone back to London, as has Mr. James, and we can catch our breath. You'll be able to ease into things a bit."

Bella nodded. She didn't know if she should respond more, but Mrs. Cope hardly noticed as she continued.

"It's just Mr. Edward here now. He likes it here in the country better and he'll stay for some time now, likely."

"Is that Lord Masen? Did I see him in the front room?" asked Bella. She blushed slightly, embarrassed that his piercing eyes had been at the forefront of her mind for the last twenty minutes.

"Oh yes. Though I have a hard time thinking of him as 'Lord Masen.' I've known him since he was three years old! That was 25 years ago, when I first started as a scullery maid here at Wrenfield Hall. Been head cook here now for 15 years," she said with satisfaction. "My Joseph has been here 30 years. He works in the stables – the groom."

"Yes, years ago this house was full of activity! When both James and Edward were boys and their cousins Emmett and Alice would come to stay, we could hardly keep up with them! Food at all hours, running and shrieking through the halls, games in the gardens, picnics…"

Mrs. Cope trailed off. She gave a sad smile and little shrug.

"Oh well. No matter. I'm just pleased to have Edward here as often as possible, and he's always so much happier when the Cullens come to stay. Now James…"

She shook her head, then smiled brightly at Bella.

"Had enough? Alright then, let me take your plate."

Bella surrendered her thick crockery plate and stifled a yawn.

"I hear Mrs. Mallory coming now, dear. Look smart and get straight to bed. Morning comes quickly!"

**-xxx-**

Morning did come quickly. Bella felt she had scarcely closed her eyes when she heard a sharp rap on her door.

"Bella! Breakfast in fifteen minutes!" Mrs. Mallory called and clipped away down the hall.

Bella raised her sleepy head, her dark hair a curtain around her face. She groaned and let her head fall back down to the pillow.

Could she really be here? Could she really have left her own cozy home in St. Mary's village, the only home she had ever known?

Really, Bella had no choice. After the death of her father, it was either leave her home or accept the marriage offer of her second cousin, Michael Newton. She shuddered at the thought of Newton. He showed up, days after her father's death, ready to claim the house as his own. Legally, he could. Bella was a woman and, since her father had not specifically left the house to her in a will (he had in fact left no will – his death came unexpectedly), it went to the next closest living male relative. Newton.

Newton made what he thought was a generous offer – marry him and she could stay in the house as long as she liked. But Bella hadn't been tempted, not even for a

moment. His eager smile and his overhelpfulness coupled with the way he looked at her whenever they happened to be alone made her want to run screaming to the woods. The thought of sharing a life with him, least of all a bed, covered her with a feeling of panic and suffocation. She had to find her own way.

And she would. Armed with a recommendation from her best friend Angela's father, Rev. Webber, she secured a position here at Wrenfield Hall. She would work hard and give her best to her employer until she decided what path to next take.

As she lay in bed, Bella wondered what the day held. Would she work alone would Mrs. Mallory pair her with another girl? Would she be able to keep upright until the end of the day? Work as a housemaid could be nearly intolerably exhausting.

Then, the thought of Lord Edward Masen crossed her mind. Somewhere, in this very house, he probably lay sleeping. Perhaps he lay sprawled out on a bed, linens twisted around his torso, hair tousled around his face, falling over his sleeping eyes as his lips parted and regular breath came in and out…

Ashamed of herself for imagining her employer thusly, Bella shot up out of bed and began her day.

**-xxx-**

By noon, Bella wondered if she had made a wrong choice. The Webbers had begged her to stay with them – they were practically like family to her, they reasoned, and her father would have wanted her to live with them in the village. Angela pleaded with her, tears in her eyes. But Bella remained unmoved. She wanted to – oh! how she wanted to! – but her pride would not let her. Besides, Angela was to be married in a month and planned to move to another village twenty miles away where her betrothed, a minister also, had a little church. Much as she loved Rev. and Mrs. Webber, she did not want to be a burden.

But had she stayed with the Webbers, Bella mused as she rubbed her shoulders, sore from four straight hours of washing impossibly tall windows, she probably wouldn't be so close to a complete breakdown. The work was hard and non-stop. Before the window washing was an hour of carrying heavy buckets of coal up stairs.

The only bright spot in the morning was her companion, a bright, friendly housemaid, Lizzie, who was assigned to help her learn her duties. Lizzie, a cheery girl with red curls and a round freckled face, was chatty, and in whispered tones filled her in on all the servant gossip.

As Lizzie guided her to the servant's dining room, Bella wondered aloud what the afternoon's chores would be.

"Don't you know, Bella?" laughed Lizzie. "Windows! We've done but twelve and there are near forty on the first floor alone!"

Bella groaned inwardly but would not think of complaining aloud. She gave Lizzie a small smile and sat down to her bowl of autumn stew.

Windows, windows, windows. Bella and Lizzie had moved on from the dining hall to the front drawing room, the room where she had seen Lord Masen the night before. As she walked in she got a small thrill from walking past the fireplace where he had stood and looked at her.

_Stop it!_ she chided herself._ Foolish girl! _She silently ridiculed herself for having allowed herself even a moment's reflection on his appearance. She was a servant girl! Plain, penniless…she didn't even have a pretty way of speaking or girlish charms that might cause a man like Lord Masen to overlook her unexciting appearance. No, she was more likely to be overlooked entirely, she thought.

Bella shook her head and firmly told herself to spend her time thinking of something more worthy of her mind. She had a fine mind, and she knew it. That was one thing that Bella always stood confident in.

As she stood steadying the ladder while Lizzie carefully climbed, rag in one hand and bucket in the other, she slowly ran through the catalog of verse she had committed to memory until she came to one that pleased her, "Ode to a Nightingale" by John Keats.

_"My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains_

_My sense, as though of hemlock I had drunk,_

_Or emptied some dull opiate to the drains_

_One minute past, and Lethe-wards had sunk:_

_'Tis not through envy of thy happy lot,_

_But being too happy in thy happiness, -_

_That thou, light-winged Dryad of the trees,_

_In some melodious plot_

_Of beechen green, and shadows numberless,_

_Singest of summer in full-throated ease."_

Carried away by the beauty of the poem, Bella was in her own silent reverie when suddenly Lizzie called down from the top of the window in a loud whisper "Bella! Look!"

Bella followed where Lizzie directed until her eyes rested on Lord Masen himself, riding easily up to Wrenfield Hall on a beautiful black horse. As he approached the great house, the horse slowed and he dismounted. Handing the reins to a young stable boy, Masen took off his black riding coat and untucked his white linen shirt. The sun shone bright and his forehead glistened with sweat as he ran his fingers through his messy hair. A glass of water was offered and accepted and Bella watched, open mouthed, as he drained the glass in one long drink, wiping his mouth on his sleeve.

Then, as if he knew she was there, Lord Edward Masen turned directly to the window where Bella gaped and looked straight into her eyes.

Flushing a deep crimson, Bella turned away quickly, shaking the ladder on which Lizzie was precariously balanced.

"Bella!" cried Lizzie in a panicked voice.

"Oh! I'm sorry!" said Bella, apologetically and steadied the ladder.

Lizzie looked down and giggled at Bella.

"I _know!_" Lizzie said, indicating the space outside where Masen had stood.

But when Bella gathered the courage to surreptitiously glance out the window again, he was gone.

**-xxx-**

The next three days passed and Bella only caught one glimpse of Lord Masen from a distance as he crossed a hall from one room to another. He didn't look up and see her, and for that she was glad. She was hot and sweaty and awkwardly carrying a newly upholstered, heavy ottoman into a sitting room. Reaching her destination, she nearly dropped the ottoman on a thick carpet and flopped down on it to catch her breath.

_Silly, silly girl!_ she once again lectured herself. _Stop looking, stop thinking! _

But that was easier said than done.

**-xxx-**

The bright kitchen fireplace illuminated the hoop that Bella held on her lap. In it was stretched a piece of cloth onto which she was carefully stitching tiny crosses that slowly formed the letters of a verse of scripture:

"Be ye kind one to another, tenderhearted, forgiving one another."

It was to be a wedding present for Angela and Benjamin and Bella had only three weeks left to complete it.

"Really, what was Mrs. Mallory thinking?" complained Lizzie to her companions. "It's just not possible to wax the entire hallway in one afternoon and if anyone walks on it too soon it will ruin the finish!"

Mrs. Cope sighed. "Now Lizzie, just keep your head. The last thing you need is to call attention to yourself. Mrs. Mallory is a fine housekeeper but her temper is nothing to meddle with."

"I know," said Lizzie in a resigned voice. "I just can't help but think it's _unfair_ to put all that on Bella, as new as she is! It's hard enough for someone who is experienced to get it all done, let alone one who is still learning!"

"It's fine, really," said Bella, giving Lizzie a grateful look. "I need to get faster and Mrs. Mallory's frosty stare is as good a motivation as any."

Mrs. Cope smiled at the two young women. She had so enjoyed their company in the kitchen this past week. The evenings had been spent in friendly banter and needlework sharing. Lizzie supplied most of the conversation while Bella smiled and listened, occasionally offering a succinct observation or appropriate remark. Her kind and careful manner reminded Mrs. Cope of someone but she could not settle her mind on whom.

"Tea, anyone?" she asked, laying down her knitting and rising to her feet.

"Yes, please," both young women said in unison, then turned and laughed at each other.

For a moment the kitchen was silent as one dark, smooth head and one curly, red head bent over their handiwork. Mrs. Cope busied herself at the other end of the kitchen with pouring three steaming cups of tea as the door to the kitchen swung open.

"Nanny - how are you?" said a deep, quiet voice. Bella's head snapped up as Lord Masen approached Mrs. Cope.

"Well! Mr. Edward! I haven't seen you in here in some time!" beamed a pleased Mrs. Cope as she smoothed out her apron. She loved it when he used his childhood nickname for her. It brought back memories of all those years when the growing boy would dash into the kitchen for a piece of cheese or slice of pie. "What can I get you?"

Masen leaned against one of the long wooden tables and selected a red apple from a basket that sat upon it. "This might do it," he said. "I just wanted a little something." He gave Mrs. Cope a small smile and took a large bite of the apple.

"How is your son?" he asked, when he had swallowed.

"Oh, he's fine!" Mrs. Cope answered. "He's got a little medical office over in Goudhurst and Julia is expecting their second baby. We all hope it's a girl this time but if we have another boy like little Peter that will suit us fine, too!"

"Please give him my regards next time you see him," said Masen easily, taking another bite of apple.

"Oh I surely will, Mr. Edward!"

Just then Masen noticed the three cups of tea that Mrs. Cope was preparing. He stood up straight and turned around to face the fireplace, seeing for the first time the two young women by the fireplace. Bella and Lizzie stood.

"Lord Masen, this is Lizzie Reed, who's been with us for some time, you may recognize her, and Bella Swan who just started this week," said Mrs. Cope.

Bella drew in a breath as he looked at her, a quick glance up and down the length of her.

Masen set the apple down and made his way around the table to approach the fireplace.

"How are you finding Wrenfield Hall?," he asked Bella in that velvet voice that made her heart jump a little.

Bella gave a small curtsey.

"Fine, sir," Bella answered

"Good," said Masen. He looked at her again, as if he was trying to figure something out, then gave a small shake of his head.

"Needlepoint?" he asked, indicating the hoop in Bella's hand. "May I see?"

Wordlessly, Bella handed it over. He took the hoop in his long, slender hands and traced a finger over the words.

"That was my mother's favorite scripture," he said quietly. He looked up, and with the briefest of smiles, handed the hoop back to Bella.

As Bella reached out to take it, the tips of her fingers gently brushed the backs of his, and she nearly gasped. A charge surged up her fingers, through her hand and into her forearm as their flesh touched.

Masen pulled his hand back quickly, a strange look on his face. He frowned slightly as he looked at Bella, then down to her hand, now at her side with the hoop gripped tightly, and back up to her face.

A dark look passed over his face. He quickly nodded his head at each of the three women in the room and swiftly turned and left.

"Well!" said Mrs. Cope, a little uncertainly. "Well!" She filled a tray with the three cups of tea and came back over by the fire.

Bella sat down heavily, a slightly confused look on her face. After a moment she picked up her needle and with unsteady fingers stitched a small, careful X in the fabric.

Lizzie looked from one woman to the other.

"He didn't even ask to see mine!" she said with a good-natured whine.

**-xxx-**

Edward lay in bed some hours later, fingers laced behind his head. It was all wrong. Yes, he had noticed her. Yes, he had thought about her a few times, perhaps while eating his breakfast or while riding down one of his favorite trails. But he worried little. It wasn't the first time he had noticed a pretty servant girl. There had even been a time or two, in his youth, when he had convinced a maid to spend a moment around a hidden corner with him. James had been even more aggressive – he was lucky there were no lasting consequences of his indiscretions in the form of wailing babies.

But this was different. The shock that had passed between them startled him, confused him. He couldn't be sure, but he thought she had felt it, too. The look on her face suggested so.

He was in no position to feel anything of this sort for anyone – except one specific person. And that person was most certainly not a lowly housemaid, sitting by a kitchen fire, needlework in hand, dark, intelligent eyes burning as they looked at him, porcelain skin with a slight flush high in the cheeks, dark hair shining…

_Stop!_ he growled to himself. He pulled the pillow from behind his head, boxed it forcefully and slammed it down to the bed again. He shifted, punched the side of the pillow to reshape it under his head and closed his eyes, willing himself to go to sleep.

**-xxx-**

Bella lay perfectly still in her narrow bed, hands folded calmly over her ribcage. To an outside observer, she was the picture of serenity.

But inside, her thoughts raced, unfocused and wild.

Slowly, her mind stilled until she finally drifted off to sleep, with one singular thought that had sifted itself apart from the rest.

_Edward…_


	2. Chapter Two

**Chapter Two**

The next three days passed for Bella in a blur of scrubbing floors, removing, airing and replacing heavy drapes, tedious dusting of vases and other bric-a-brac and numerous other tasks. In a house the size of Wrenfield Hall, there was a never-ending list of chores, and Lord Masen was intent on keeping the great house in top order. His interest in upkeep stretched beyond the borders of the house, too. Daily he rode for miles around the estate, checking on fish ponds, making sure fields were not being overgrazed, visiting with tenant farmers to inquire after the harvest, meeting with the overseers of the vast woods to mark mature trees to be felled, ensuring that others were left to continue to grow and keep the forests healthy.

Masen loved the estate, its gardens, buildings, fields, woods and ponds. It was his home, more than the London house had ever been. Even as a boy, he had never felt entirely comfortable in the city – there were too many people! Too much dust, grime and noise. As a younger man, he attended balls, parties and other social events, mostly out of obligation and to make his mother happy.

Elizabeth Masen knew her older son did not enjoy city life. He was so much like his father! The previous Lord Masen also endured his time in London for the sake of his dear wife and with the hope that his sons would find suitable wives. But he counted the days on the calendar until he could return to the country, no matter the season.

Lady Masen was at home both in London and at Wrenfield and her two sons seemed to each show a strong preference for the two sides of her personality. James, the younger boy, loved parties, late nights, the theater, playing cards and general carousing. He was charming and sociable with a devilish grin that made the ladies giggle and blush and whisper together in corners. He wore his blond hair longer than most men, tied low at the back of his neck. He found that the ladies loved it.

If James loved the night, Edward loved the day. He loved to arise early, walk the grounds, meet with the tenant farmers, go over plans for improvements to house and land. He loved good food but was just as satisfied with a meal of new potatoes with butter and dish of fresh blackberries as he was an elegant 10-course meal of exquisitely prepared delicacies and fine meats. He read incessantly in the evenings, and kept up faithfully with correspondence.

In short, Edward was well suited to country life. He was happy at Wrenfield – at least as happy as a lone man could be.

**-xxx-**

Bella stood, neck craned upward, feather duster in hand, as she contemplated the tower of books before her. She was tasked with dusting the dark wood-paneled library, a job that likely would take her the remainder of the afternoon. Bella welcomed the chore, despite the tedium – she felt more at home here in this room, even with it's startling ceiling paintings of all-seeing eyes framed by golden rays, than in any of the other great rooms, where she always felt insignificant and out of place.

But here – the books seemed both friendly and exciting to her. She had always loved books, ever since her father patiently taught her to read as a five-year-old. Bella allowed herself a moment of sadness – grief, even – as she thought of her father's small library at her old home. It filled one cabinet, probably about fifty volumes, but it was an entire world to Bella. He father had carefully chosen the best books he could afford – world geography, modern science, Shakespeare, the classics, poetry, even popular novels like Gulliver's Travels, Charles Dickens and the works of Jane Austen, a gift to Bella.

The library here held many times the small collection of Charles Swan. Bella began to count but the brown and red spines with their gilt lettering swam before her eyes and she gave up the project. Thousands of volumes, at least, she guessed.

After drawing back the heavy drapes, letting in sunlight to make seeing the dust on every book easier, Bella set to work.

All afternoon, Bella doggedly and carefully dusted row after row, cabinet after cabinet. The shelves were behind glass, nonetheless, some dust did creep in and required attention.

Finally, she was done. For three hours she resisted the temptation to remove a single book from its resting spot on the shelf and peek inside. She had to be satisfied with reading the titles and imagining what lay inside the covers or remembering the contents, whenever she chanced upon a book her father had owned.

But as she climbed down the oak library ladder that ran on a track along the huge case of books, she caught her eye on a familiar volume: _The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy _by Jacob Burckhardt. It was a newer acquisition of her father's, one she was in the midst of reading when her father abruptly died.

Carefully, she slid the book from between its companions and made her way down two more rungs to the floor. Lovingly she opened the red leather bound book, found where she had left off and began to read.

Minutes passed, twenty or more, as Bella grew more engrossed, perching on the library ladder, not daring to sit in one of the inviting leather chairs that flanked the great fireplace opposite the large bookcase.

It was this scene that Edward encountered as he entered the library. His boots were muffled by the thick Turkish carpet runner that led to the doorway and Bella did not hear his approach. She continued to read, book in one hand as the other absentmindedly tapped her lower lip.

Edward watched her for a moment. The late afternoon sunlight streamed in, dust dancing in the shafts of light. Bella's dark hair shone under her cap and a stray lock curled loosely down her cheek.

He contemplated leaving her – he understood what it was like to get lost in a book and hated to interrupt anyone who was occupied thusly, even if it was his own servant girl who undoubtedly had other work to get to and had no permission to handle the books, except in the course of her duties.

But Edward found he liked that she was reading one of his books. He recognized the red cover and silently complimented her on her choice. He had selected and purchased the book himself last year in London.

He was suddenly overcome with the desire to converse with her about the book, to ask whether she agreed with Burckhardt's decision to include the examination of social institutions in a volume of cultural history or to ask who her favorite Renaissance painter was, anything…

He approached. As his boots clicked onto the hard floor, Bella gasped and straightened, the book tumbling out of her hand and falling with an echoing _thud_ to the parquet floor.

Her face flushed red as she bent to retrieve the book.

Oh no, oh no, oh no…I've ruined everything! I'll lose my place here! I'll be turned out without a recommendation!

Her thoughts raced as she straightened to see Lord Masen standing several feet in front of her with a look of intensity on his green eyes.

_Say something, Edward!_ he told himself. _Talk to her…ask her about the book._

But before he could make himself do so, Bella curtsied hastily.

"I'm so sorry sir, please forgive me. I….just…I'm sorry."

Bella began to leave, then realized she still had the book in her hand. Frantically, she wondered if she should climb the ladder to replace the book but opted instead to set it gently on the massive oak table that dominated the center space of the room.

_I don't suppose it matters,_ Bella thought sadly. _I'll be let go as soon as Mrs. Mallory gets wind of this anyway._

And she left the room.

**-xxx-**

After dinner, as Bella and Lizzie climbed the stairs to the third floor to retire for the evening, Lizzie kept up her steady stream of chatty gossip.

"And Sarah said that the new stable boy is Grace's _first cousin_ and that he _still _tried to kiss her last evening. Can you imagine?"

Bella tried her best to look shocked at this piece of news but failed, looking instead just confused and a little bit sick.

Lizzie looked at her with a careful eye.

"Are you alright, Bella? You don't look well."

"No, I'm fine. I'm just tired," Bella lied.

"Well," said Lizzie doubtfully, "I'll see you in the morning then."

"Goodnight," said Bella softly. With a sigh she turned the knob and entered her own small chamber. She would miss Lizzie, she thought, when she was let go. For all her silliness, Lizzie was kindhearted and likely a loyal friend. Sadly, Bella realized she would never get the chance to know for sure.

She saw it as soon as she stepped inside. It was such a small room it was all easily taken in at one glance.

The red volume that she had read – and dropped – that afternoon, in the presence of Lord Masen himself, lay in the middle of her neatly made bed. It was positioned to be square with the lines of the bed as if it had been carefully placed just so.

Bella's heart gave an unexpected _thump._ She furrowed her brow, unable to comprehend what she saw. He had the book sent up to her room – or brought it up himself. It made no sense to her. _Why? What message is he sending? Does he want to make sure that I remember why I will be let go? Is it a gesture of friendship? Ridiculous, friendship!_ she chided herself. _Gentlemen are not friends with housemaids._

She sat down weakly in the straight-backed wooden chair at the end of the narrow room, exhausted from the day, confused by this new development. With a tired hand, and never taking her eyes from the book, she removed her cap and let her hands fall to her lap. She sat that way for a long time, too tired to sort it all out in her head but trying anyway.

**-xxx-**

The fire in Edward's bedchamber was down to glowing embers, and still he sat in the comfortable wing chair, staring. In his mind, he again replayed the events of the afternoon and the evening – the surge of excitement he felt when he saw her in the library, how he wished to know what she was thinking, the flush on her face and the look of fear when she found she was discovered, her hasty curtsey and exit…

She left so quickly he could not talk to her as he had planned. He could not tell her to take the book with her and return it when she had finished with it. He wanted those moments with her to begin to know her and to try to determine why he felt such a pull to her.

He wished he felt such a pull to Tanya – that would make his life immeasurably easier. If only he could bring himself to care more for her! Tanya was beautiful and witty, true, but he found her wanting. He wished she had more of the kindness of his mother, the intellect of his father.

He shook his head and stood up to ready himself for bed.

A few minutes later, as he lay in bed, he permitted himself reflection on his stealthy evening adventure. While the servants ate their evening meal and he could be relatively sure of an empty corridor in the servants sleeping quarters, he had quietly ascended to the third floor, _The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy_ in hand. He knew it was wrong, but he planned to try to deduce which room was Bella's by peeking in each of the servant's rooms.

Luck was on his side. He slowly turned the knob on the first door on the right side of the corridor and peered in. A quick look inside the small neat room and he found just the clue he was looking for – two cross stitch samplers on the wall, one with the name Isabella Marie Swan embroidered on the bottom.

Edward quickly stepped inside the door and pulled it closed behind him. He set the book down on the bed, straightened it slightly, stood back up and looked around. The room was spartan. One narrow bed, neatly made with a small, plain bedside table. One dresser with a cracked looking glass hanging over it. One straight-backed wooden chair. One wash basin and jug on a small stand.

It struck Edward that the room's occupant had attempted to make a home here. Above the cross stitch that bore her name was a smaller one, dated fifteen years earlier, done by a Renee Hastings. Her mother, Edward guessed.

A delicate piece of tatting lay flat on the bedside table and a white eyelet cloth graced the top of the dresser. On it was a hair comb and a miniature portrait of a man in profile, the kind done by traveling artists. Who was this, Edward wondered? He hoped it was her father.

A bunch of dried lavender, tied with a pale green ribbon, hung on a pin on one side of the looking glass. It's scent filled the room. On the other side was affixed a hand colored etching of San Marco Piazza in Venice. Edward leaned in for closer examination – it looked as though it belonged in a book and had been cut out.

Other than those few personal objects, the room was clean and bare. One small window nestled in a gable on the wall opposite the door, looking out over the front drive that led to the house and beyond that, miles of fields and trees that were fading from summer green to the muted yellows, browns and reds of autumn.

_This is her view,_ Edward mused. Most of what she could see belonged to Wrenfield Hall, to him. He paused a moment, took one more look around the room, and slipped back out into the hall and back down the stairs.


	3. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

The day following the incident in the library, Bella felt like a skittish kitten, though the day proved to be entirely uneventful. Every time she saw Mrs. Mallory, her heart pounded as she tried to look calm, but Mrs. Mallory appeared not to notice her at all. By evening, Bella had begun to hope that Lord Masen had not in fact ordered her dismissal and that her place at Wrenfield was secure.

A week later, after reading late into every night, Bella finished Burckhardt's book. She was sad to have finished it – it had provided such welcome exercise for her mind. And much as she would have liked to keep it in her room to re-read some of the passages…and as a reminder…she knew it was time to return it.

Late that evening, when the house was dark and still, lamp in hand, Bella crept quietly to the library, ascended the ladder and replaced the book.

At the evening meal the following day, Mrs. Mallory came in to address the staff and to report that Lord Masen would be leaving for London in the morning for an undetermined length of time.

"He has business to attend to, and while he's away we'll take the opportunity to get some fall cleaning done," she said.

_Fall cleaning?_ thought Bella. _What have we been doing the last few weeks?_

That night, as Bella slowly climbed the stairs to the third floor, she realized just how much she had looked forward to her evenings of reading, now that the book was finished and gone.

She also gave herself a stern talking to.

_Well, I'm glad he's leaving,_ she thought._ He distracts me. I'll be more comfortable when he's not in the house and I can just focus on my job. I won't be reading his book, I won't have to wonder every time I turn a corner if he will be there, or whether the pear tart Mrs. Cope gave me last night was the very same he tasted at dinner or when he will come back from his morning ride._

_Ridiculous!_ she told herself. Bella had always prided herself on being sensible, reasonable, grounded. Even when she had her heart broken last year, she kept her emotions fully controlled. These new feelings made her feel embarrassed, silly…and undeniably excited.

She was beginning to convince herself that she felt glad about Lord Masen's imminent departure when she turned the knob, bid the scullery maid who passed by goodnight and entered her room.

Immediately Bella started. For the second time, a leather-bound volume lay neatly on her bed. This book was smaller with a golden yellow cover. She put a hand to her mouth and stared.

**-xxx-**

As Edward rode away from Wrenfield Hall the following morning, he thought again how glad he was that the opportunity had arisen to take care of business in London. For perhaps the first time in his life, he welcomed the excuse to leave Wrenfield Hall.

Life there had gotten…complicated. Not that anyone could have possibly noticed. He looked the same, behaved the same, attended to all the same responsibilities, but inside, Edward felt at loose ends.

He was becoming pathetically preoccupied with a servant girl he had exchanged a dozen or two words with. He found himself alert to the possibility that she could be around any corner and his heart quickened when he thought of her. He checked the library daily for the return of the book, and yesterday morning, when he found it alongside its companions on the shelf, he immediately selected another work for her.

With the slim volume of poetry in hand, _Poems_ by Alfred Tennyson, he had again entered Bella's room, deposited the book on her bed and slipped out.

Later in the day, with his mind alternating between plans to retrieve the book and pretend he hadn't brought it to her room at all, and wishing he could converse with her about what she had read in the previous book, a letter came from London. Several matters needed his attention, and while these were issues that could be settled by correspondence from Wrenfield, he seized on the opportunity to go to London and clear his mind.

So now, he had a fortnight or more of work to attend to in London, and he intended to throw himself fully into it. Meetings with Tanya's father would take up a good portion of his days and his evenings would be spent with Tanya at the theater or dinner or playing cards with her mother and sisters. Edward breathed deeply and steeled himself for the social obligations he would have to endure. There was no other choice.

With his mind so fixed, he put the miles between himself and Wrenfield Hall, all the while promising to himself that he would return with a new devotion to Tanya and his future and a head clear of any quiet, dark-haired, book-reading housemaids.

**-xxx-**

Bella missed him. She couldn't even admit it to herself, but she did. She pushed thoughts of him continually out of her head during the day, forcing herself to focus on her never-ending tasks. It was only at the end of the day, after work was done and she and Mrs. Cope and Lizzie had spent a pleasant hour or two in the kitchen, that she would allow herself the luxury of thinking of Lord Masen.

Each time she settled into bed with book of poetry from the library, she let herself remember his face, how he looked the night of her arrival in the firelight, the shock that came when their fingers touched, and finally, she would wonder, again, if he had been there in her room. And if he had…what would he have thought of her few possessions? Would he have bothered to notice? And what on earth could his lending her this second book mean?

**-xxx-**

"Oh, have so much fun, Bella!" Lizzie said excitedly as she helped Bella carry her small black case down the narrow stairs. "I do love a good wedding," she said dreamily.

"I know," said Bella, teasingly. "You've mentioned it once or twice, often after you've come back from a walk with Bobby Long."

"Oh! Well, I guess I can't deny that," said Lizzie, smiling.

"Remember the details, Bella," said Lizzie, as she kissed her goodbye at the back entrance to the house. "I want a full report!"

Bella waved goodbye the redhead who bounced excitedly on the balls of her feet in the doorway. She smiled. Lizzie had proven to be a good friend these last few weeks. She was chatty but not prying, sympathetic but not cloyingly so. Bella wished that Lizzie could have come with her to Angela's wedding, but Bobby had promised to take her on a picnic on her day off.

The two miles into St. Mary's village seemed a short walk. With a little effort, Bella was able to keep her thoughts focused on Angela's wedding, set for tomorrow, Saturday, and not on Lord Masen.

Soon enough, Bella found herself knocking on the door to the stone vicarage.

The door flew open and Bella was nearly knocked over by an enormous hug from a tall, dark-haired young woman.

"You're here! I am so glad to see you, Bella," cried Angela, her eyes shining. She kissed Bella on the cheek and picked up her case.

"Come in, come in! Mother wants to see you and I can't wait to show you my dress and sit down with you and have a cup of tea! Oh, I have missed you!"

Later that evening, as Bella and Angela lay in Angela's darkened bedroom, exhausted from hours of talking, laughing and experimenting with Angela's hair, Bella decided to broach a painful subject.

"Angela?"

"Yes?"

"Will he be there?"

Angela turned to face Bella in the darkness.

"Yes. I'm sorry, Bella, but Jacob's family have always been friends…they had to be invited."

"Oh, I know. Don't be sorry," said Bella, softly. She had expected Jacob and his wife, Leah, to be there, she just didn't look forward to it. The pain wasn't so fresh as it had been in the springtime, but her heart was still tender when she thought of him.

She sighed. Angela sighed, too, and found Bella's hand under the covers and squeezed it.

Angela had always been such a good friend, and never more so than when Jacob came to Bella to confess that he had fallen in love with another, a girl named Leah, a cousin of his best friend Sam.

Bella and Jacob had had an understanding but it had never been formalized. She had expected that any day Jacob would go talk to her father and ask for her hand. She looked forward to it. She loved Jacob, had known him all her life and knew that he would be a good husband. He would provide well; he was a hard worker and he would be faithful and true, she was sure.

She hadn't bargained on true love coming in and wrecking her future, she hadn't expected Jacob to transform into a lovesick puppy with the arrival of the headstrong and beautiful Leah.

She bore no ill will to Jacob and Leah. She wished them well at their wedding, and with the passage of months she came to see how right it was that they were together.

Still, the memory what might have been made Bella feel sad, lonely and rejected, especially with the passing of her father and being turned out of her own home. If she had married Jacob, she would have a home of her own, a family, a place to belong…

"What is Lord Masen like?" Angela asked, suddenly, shaking Bella from her thoughts.

"What?" asked Bella, startled.

"You haven't made mention of him at all. We've been so busy talking about me and the wedding, I don't even know if you've met him. You know, I've seen him a few times, at church. He's very handsome. You just never noticed because you only had eyes for Jacob."

"Oh…well," began Bella. She sighed. "Yes, I've met him twice. And I made such a terrible fool of myself…" her voice trailed off.

"What? What do you mean?" asked Angela, sitting up on one elbow.

Bella recounted their two meetings, first in the kitchen, leaving out the charge she felt when their fingers met, and then in the library.

Now Angela was sitting up fully.

"He left books in your room? Twice? That was quite forward of him!" she giggled.

"Forward?"

"Bella! Men don't just do that sort of thing for no reason."

Bella was taken aback. "Well, what 'reason' could there be?" she wondered aloud.

Angela flopped back down onto the pillows. Bella could hear the smile in her voice. "Oh, I don't know. You're very pretty, Bella, and smart. He might be a lord, but he's not blind."

Bella rolled her eyes in the darkness.

"Angela, you're getting married in the morning, you yourself might be blinded by love. You're seeing things where they just don't exist."

Angela gave a satisfied sigh. "Maybe," she said, rolling over to face Bella. "And maybe – not."

**-xxx-**

Early next evening, Bella kissed Rev. and Mrs. Webber goodbye and headed back to Wrenfield Hall. After a beautiful ceremony and festive wedding lunch, the newly married Rev. and Mrs. Benjamin Cheney had left in a flurry of rice and well wishes for a week's wedding trip to Brighton. Bella visited with the Webbers as long as she could but finally realized that if she didn't get on her way soon, she wouldn't make it back before nightfall…and the beautiful day was turning dark with heavy clouds that were threatening rain.

A mile into her walk back, the clouds above her burst and a heavy, cold rain fell. By the time Bella reached the servant's entrance, she felt stiff, soaked and miserable.

She stepped inside, water streaming off her garments. As she removed her cloak and cape, a great sneeze welled up inside her and erupted.

The noise brought Mrs. Cope around the corner, exclaiming at the sight of the drenched young woman. She bustled her up to her room, helped her out of her sodden clothes, brought up tea and bread, and then instructed her to go straight to sleep.

The next morning, Bella felt as though her throat was on fire and every muscle ached. Sunday was a light day for the staff and Mrs. Cope begged Mrs. Mallory to let Bella stay in her room. Mrs. Mallory consented, and let her be Monday, too, after walking by her room and hearing the hacking cough that Bella was developing. Mrs. Mallory felt no special sympathy for Bella but decided she couldn't risk an entire sick staff and felt it was best to keep Bella quarantined.

**-xxx-**

Sunday evening, Edward rode up the long drive to Wrenfield Hall, his heart feeling more at ease with every moment. Nearly two weeks in London had left him feeling drained, unsettled and dirty. The fresh country air and the lights burning in the windows of his home made him nearly smile. Without thinking, his eyes traveled upward to the third floor windows. He easily picked out the gable that housed Bella's window and noted that it was dark, while other windows on the floor glowed with lamplight.

_Perhaps she's in the kitchen with Nanny…_ he thought, and then immediately chastised himself.

Two weeks away, your best effort forget her, and here you are, not even in the door and wondering where she is! He shook his head and vowed to retire to his own chambers immediately.

Twenty minutes later, he found himself wandering into the kitchen. The fire was nearly out and the room was deserted.

A new round of silent lectures formed in Edward's head as he vacated the room and went off to bed.

**-xxx-**

"Everything looks in order, Mrs. Mallory. Thank you for your attention," said Edward, rising. His meeting with his housekeeper was perfunctory – Mrs. Mallory was undeniably capable and rarely had to be directed in any matter. Still, occasional meetings were important to ensure that all of Lord Masen's wishes in regard to his house were taken care of.

Mrs. Mallory curtsied and turned to leave.

"And how is the staff?" Edward called out, impulsively. Inwardly he cursed himself. Don't be too obvious, Masen!

"Fine, sir," said Mrs. Mallory, curiously. "Have you some concerns?"

"No, no. I just know this is a time of year when sickness often strikes, with the change of season, and I wanted to make sure you have enough help." He hoped his nonchalance would save him from suspicion.

"Well, the newest housemaid, Miss Swan, has caught herself a terrible cold on her walk home from St. Mary's on Saturday night. She got caught in a downpour, I understand. But that just puts us one short and she should be on the mend soon."

"Ah," said Edward. So that is why I haven't seen her. "Very well, thank you." And he turned his attention back to the papers on his desk, indicating the interview was over.

**-xxx-**

The great house was dark and silent late Monday night as Edward slipped out of his bedchamber. He took a small lamp with him and headed toward the stairs that led to the third floor, unsure of any plan but following a compulsion.

As he neared the top of the stairs, he could hear great hacking coughs emanating from the first bedroom on the right. He paused. The coughing subsided, then another fit attacked.

Edward turned around and went back down the stairs and made his way to the kitchen. The room was empty and his lone lamplight cast shadows on the wall as he crept around, looking in cupboards until he found what he wanted. One cup, one saucer. A tin of loose tea was located on another shelf and a silver tea strainer next to it.

The kettle that always hung over the fireplace still held hot water, though the fire was down to low embers. Not as good as boiling water, but it will do, thought Edward.

The tea made, he hunted in the pantry until a few slices of bread were located. He wedged one into the saucer and returned upstairs.

Standing outside Bella's door, he paused. It was quiet and he began to feel very foolish about his spontaneous plan. Just as he was about to turn and leave, a new wave of coughing began. Pity took over as he thought of Bella's slender shoulders, wracked with spasms.

He softly knocked.

"Come in," called a raspy voice.

He quietly turned the knob and opened the door. Stepping inside, he saw Bella in the lamplight half sitting up in bed, dark hair hanging loosely around her pale face, a shawl pulled tightly around her shoulders. Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

Edward opened his mouth as if to say something, reconsidered, and carefully set the tea and bread on the small bedside table.

He looked at Bella, who hadn't taken her eyes off of him, nor had she moved an inch, bowed his head slightly, and left the room.

**-xxx-**

Bella sat, staring at the cup of tea and slice of bread. If she didn't have this tangible evidence, she would feel sure that she had been hallucinating. She felt her forehead…no, her fever seemed gone. What in heaven's name had just transpired?

When she heard the soft knock on the door minutes before, she assumed it was Mrs. Cope or Lizzie, come to check on her as they had done these last two days.

But she never in her life would have imagined that it would be Lord Masen's perfect face that would appear around her door. He was extraordinarily handsome, with a perfectly shaped mouth and a strong jaw line, high cheekbones and reddish hair that seemed to have a mind of its own.

Bella couldn't understand it. It would make more sense to her if she were a great beauty, or were accomplished, rich or charming. But Bella felt utterly ordinary. She knew she wasn't ugly, and to be sure, beauty was in the eye of the beholder, but Lord Masen taking any sort of romantic interest in her was so outside of the realm of possibility that she felt ridiculous even entertaining the thought.

She felt entirely confused…and excited. With unsteady hands, she took the cup of tea. _Did he make this tea…for me?_ A hint of a smile played at the corner of her mouth as she sipped the tea. It was weak and no longer hot, but it seemed the best cup of tea Bella had ever drunk.


	4. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

Wednesday morning, Bella felt well enough to return to work. She was given an easy morning assignment, sorting and mending kitchen linens. After the noon meal, Bella moved on to an afternoon of dusting hallways and all the tables, vases and clocks found in them.

As she neared the doorway to each room off of the hallway, she glanced in, only to find each room empty of occupants. But at the library, her investigation paid off.

Lord Masen stood by the lit fire, back to her, book in hand. Bella stood in the doorway and watched for a moment, her heart pounding, as he slowly closed the book and turned around.

Their eyes met, and Bella, feeling weak, took a tentative step inside the doorway.

Lord Masen slowly lowered the book to his side, never taking his eyes from Bella as she crossed the room until she stopped a few feet in front of him.

"Thank you," she said, when she found her voice.

He nodded, silently.

"For the tea. And the books."

Another silent nod.

Bella waited a beat, not sure whether to expect more of a response. He had clearly made gestures, but of what? Friendship? Pity? There was certainly no protocol for thanking the lord of the manor, who more closely resembled Adonis than a country gentleman, for bringing tea to a lowly maid in the middle of the night, and for sharing his library. Most men would have fired a maid for helping herself to his books when she should have been working. Bella could not understand his reasoning. If he had wanted to seduce her, which she understood from listening to the whispered conversations of the other maids, was not uncommon in these great country houses, then surely he would have taken a different approach. What was his motivation? What was her expected response?

She gave the smallest of sighs, barely audible, curtsied and turned to go.

"Which was your favorite?"

"Pardon, sir?"

"Which book was your favorite?"

Lord Masen, still as a statue, book in hand, waited. Bella could hardly stand the sight of him. His jawline, his hair with one lock that fell over his forehead, his intense green eyes boring into hers…she found it hard to think clearly.

"Oh." Bella paused. "Well, sir, I found Burckhardt's contrast of the republics of Venice and Florence to be fascinating. And I find myself longing to walk down Florentine streets and visit the Duomo since reading his descriptions. It seems worlds apart from St. Mary's village."

Bella stopped. Was she talking too much? But it seemed that he wanted to hear – his eyes stayed on her, and he nodded slightly, encouraging her.

"And Venice – well, I've imagined Venice ever since my father described streets of water to me as a child. The book filled out the childish images I have carried with me for years."

Another pause, and Bella decided to continue.

"My father had just bought the book shortly before he died. I was reading it but…it stayed with his library. Thank you for the opportunity to finish reading it. It was very generous of you."

"When did your father die?" asked Lord Masen.

"Two months ago," said Bella. She brought her chin up slightly and he saw her shoulders stiffen. _She's trying to keep her emotions checked,_ thought Edward, and he felt a sudden kinship to her, remembering how he reacted for months after his mother died. The memory of well-meaning inquiries and platitudes when he would have preferred to mourn in private came rushing back.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said simply, and Bella nodded her thanks.

"And the other book? The book of poems?" he asked, moving quickly on.

"It's lovely," said Bella with a smile. "I love Lord Tennyson! I've read one other poem, _In Memoriam, A. H. H.,_ and it nearly broke my heart. This collection is so beautiful – I'm enjoying it so much!"

A wide smile that showed his white teeth broke across Lord Masen's face, his eyes lighting up.

Bella's heart gave an irregular beat as she watched his face transform from its usual serious nature to one of almost delight at her answer. _He is absolutely beautiful! Is it really possible that I could have not noticed him before, like Angela said? How could I have not seen this glorious face?_

"I'm so glad," Lord Masen said, the smile still on his face. And he was. He was astonished at how pleased he was with her enthusiasm, and astonished that he felt a sudden urge to reach out and touch Bella's hand, a desire to connect with her physically in the same way he felt he was connecting with her in conversation.

His unexpected desire to touch her had the effect of cold water being thrown on his face. In an instant, the smile was gone from his face and it was replaced with a dark look.

"Yes, well…" He turned his back to her and replaced the book he was holding on the shelf.

Bella looked confused and unsure – was she being dismissed? Why did it seem he was he suddenly displeased with her? Had she done something wrong?

After a moment, feeling foolish, Bella curtsied to Lord Masen's back and turned to leave the room.

"You have my permission to use the library as you wish," he called.

Bella turned. He was no longer facing the bookcase, but her.

"I am happy to share my books with anyone who has such a passion as yours," he said, his face impassive.

Bella felt even more confused than before. One moment he was silent, the next, inquisitive, then happy - _friendly_, even – then cold, and finally generous. Her mind reeled.

"Thank you, sir," Bella said. "You are very kind."

"Perhaps it is best if you don't speak of this," he said, "but if anyone ever…questions you…send them to me."

She nodded her understanding, curtsied and left the room.

**-xxx-**

September passed and the chill of October settled in. Bella, too, had settled in at Wrenfield Hall. She did not enjoy her work as a housemaid, but she reasoned that it could be worse. While Mrs. Mallory was hard and seemed to take a dislike to her, Bella reminded herself that she was independent, fed, clothed and enjoyed the companionship of Mrs. Cope and Lizzie and, on occasion, some of the other staff. Best of all, with the great library freely open to her (though she selected her books secretly), her mind was well exercised. Nearly every evening she read by lamplight and on her days off she would often take a book and a lunch and wander for miles in the countryside, sometimes walking with her nose in the book, sometimes stopping to read under a tree for an hour or two.

Bella felt very nearly content.

She only felt unsettled when she thought of Lord Masen. A few times a week she would catch a glimpse of him in a room or pass him in the hallway, but he never looked at her, never acknowledged her. She only felt confused and vaguely rejected when she thought of him, so she simply didn't. Or, more accurately, she tried not to.

She told herself to be satisfied with what she had - an income and a library. Still, late at night, her mind would sometimes wander to the few glorious memories she kept carefully hidden away – how his face looked in the lamplight the night he brought her tea, his long and lean form in front of the fire the night of her arrival at Wrenfield, his smile like sunshine that day in the library when she told him how much she enjoyed Tennyson's work, the shock that came when their fingers touched in the kitchen…

All these memories had the confusing effect of making her feel foolish and flushed at the same time – an odd mixture of discomfort and pleasure.

One afternoon in mid-October, as Mrs. Mallory oversaw, Bella and Lizzie were tasked with carefully removing two ancient Chinese vases from the high mantle in the drawing room, cleaning and replacing them. After first being lectured on the extremely rare and valuable nature of the vases, Lizzie carefully climbed onto a stool and handed the first vase to Bella. It was cleaned and replaced without incident, but as the second vase was handed to Bella, her hand faltered on the side of the vase and slipped from her grasp, crashing onto the hearth.

Bella, Lizzie and Mrs. Mallory all looked in shock at the powdery fragments of blue and white on the floor. Mrs. Mallory recovered her voice first.

"Stupid girl! Careless! How could you have done such a thing?" she shrieked. "Worthless girl! That vase was priceless, a wedding present to the late Lord and Lady Masen from the Duke of Bedford!"

Mrs. Mallory's crimson face stood in stark contrast to Bella's white face as she stood, motionless among the ruined porcelain.

Finally, she lifted her face from the carnage at her feet to see Lord Masen, standing in the doorway, taking in the scene. Her eyes filled with tears as she looked helplessly at him, wishing she could apologize but finding she was entirely without the ability to speak.

After a moment, Lord Masen quietly left while Mrs. Mallory raged on.

**-xxx-**

As soon as Bella shut the door to her room that evening, the hot tears she had been holding back for hours spilled out, coursing down her cheeks. She was humiliated, guilt-ridden, and worried that she would lose her employment.

She didn't know what had happened – she had been gripping the vase firmly, just as she had the first, when it suddenly just _slipped_. Her mortification was amplified immeasurably when she saw Lord Masen at the doorway.

After a long cry on her top of her bed, Bella rose and changed out of her black dress and into her nightgown, then combed her long hair into a single braid that hung over her shoulder and down the front of her nightgown. She pulled her shawl around her shoulders, intending to sit up and read to calm herself before sleeping, but found that when she pulled out the latest book borrowed from the library she thought of Lord Masen and a fresh wave of guilt overtook her. With a sigh she removed the shawl, set the book aside and went to turn out the lamp.

As her hand reached towards the bedside table, she heard a soft knock at the door. _It's probably Lizzie, come to reassure me one more time that I won't be let go,_ she thought.

She stood, replaced the shawl, and opened the door. In the hallway, looking ill at ease, was Lord Masen.

"May I come in?" he whispered.

Wordlessly, Bella opened the door wider to admit him.

Once inside, his tension eased. Bella pulled her shawl tighter around her torso and looked at him warily.

"I apologize for visiting you here. I realize it's entirely improper, but I had the notion that you might be having difficulty sleeping. I see from your eyes that I was right."

Bella lowered her head, but she knew that her crying spell had left her eyes red and swollen. They would undoubtedly be sore in the morning.

"Yes, well…I'm so sorry, Lord Masen. I don't know what happened, sir. It just slipped, and I- I don't try to be careless, in fact I care very much about your home and your possessions, especially important family pieces such as that, and I just don't know what happened and I promise it will never happen again –"

Lord Masen put up his hand to stop the torrent of words.

"Please – Miss Swan – I haven't come for your apologies. I have come to assure you that your place here is secure and I am not angry."

Bella lifted her eyes to his.

"In fact, you have done my mother's memory a great service. She always hated those vases but kept them out in case the duke ever dropped by unannounced, which he sometimes did. Now I can have its hideous twin put in storage and restore good taste to the drawing room mantle."

He looked at Bella and smiled, and after a moment's hesitation, Bella allowed a small smile to spread on her face. The two looked at each other, sharing a smile and a secret.

"Thank you, sir," Bella whispered quietly.

"You're very welcome," he whispered back.

They looked into each other's eyes for a moment, as if truly seeing each other for the first time.

Edward looked away first. His eyes went to the bedside table and the book on it.

"Gulliver's Travels?" he said, teasingly.

Bella shrugged. "I loved it as a child and I love it still," she said, unembarrassed. "It's a wonderful book."

"I know," he replied. "I read it again only last month."

"Really?" Bella questioned with a wide smile.

"Truly," he answered. "I find it good for the soul to reconnect with favorite things, even if one has 'outgrown' them."

"I know!" exclaimed Bella. "Sometimes on a walk in the fields I find myself running as fast as I can, like a child, down a hill. I feel so free, I take my bonnet off and sometimes even take out my hairpins to let my hair down…"

_Again, talking too much!_ Bella chided herself. _Why do I always do that with him? He'll think me so foolish!_

But Edward just looked at her a mixture of amusement and admiration.

"That would be a sight to see," he said with a small smile.

"Oh, well…" Bella trailed off, embarrassed again.

"Are you enjoying the library?" he queried.

"Yes, sir. And thank you so much, again. It's truly been a gift."

"A gift you are welcome to," he said quietly.

For the next ten minutes, the lord and the maid stood and conversed about Bella's recent book choices, her opinions on what she had read and Edward's recommendations.

There was a pause in the conversation, and Bella shifted from one foot to the other.

"I'm so very sorry. It was rude of me to trespass on you for this long," said Edward suddenly. "I'll take my leave now. I just wanted to ensure that you knew that your position here was secure and that I was not at all angry about the demise of that horrid vase."

He smiled a crooked smile and Bella suddenly felt weak and very aware that she was alone in a bedroom with a man, wearing nothing but her nightdress.

A flush crept into her cheeks and she pulled the shawl tighter around her.

"Thank you, sir. I will sleep much easier now."

Edward gave a slight bow, Bella returned with a slight curtsey, and he left the room.

Thirty minutes later, Bella realized she had lied to Lord Masen. She would not sleep easier tonight at all. Her head was so filled with thoughts of him that sleep seemed very far off.

**THANK YOU to everyone who has commented thus far. It's so nice to feel like I'm writing for**_** someone**_** out there! For a long time it was just me and my laptop with this story and it's been more fun than I had anticipated inviting people in to read with me.**

**Please leave reviews, if you are so inclined. I am still writing this story and will definitely take suggestions and criticism under advisement. I really love hearing how people are enjoying this, too - it's quite a motivator.**

**I'm going to have to pace myself with rolling out the chapters. I know I've posted a lot in this first few days but if I continue at that rate I'll soon run out of completed material and you'll have to wait for a much longer time for new chapters.**

**Thanks again for helping make my first-ever venture into creative writing a fun one!**


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

The chill October wind whipped through Edward's hair as his horse sped across the rolling meadows that dominated the landscape surrounding Wrenfield Hall. The trees that were rapidly losing their leaves stood in sharp relief against the brilliant blue of the cloudless sky.

Edward rode his horse hard, hoping the fresh air would help clear his mind. But for the last twelve hours, all he could think of was Bella.

The few weeks before that hadn't been much better. He had intentionally avoided her and pretended he hadn't noticed when he inadvertently saw her, but she was never far from his thoughts. Even when writing Tanya his mind would wander to Bella…where was she? Was she done with her duties for the day? Was she reading one of his books? Was she tired?

He had never experienced such a preoccupation. He had been interested in other young ladies before, girls he had paid special attention to at parties and balls but this was nothing like that. It was unsettling – and exhilarating.

But he was beginning to hope that by avoiding Bella, the intensity of what he was feeling might slowly fade until it was of no consequence and he could move forward more freely with the plan James had laid out before him. Edward knew he was going to do what James had decided regardless – it would just be easier if he was not emotionally attached elsewhere.

And Edward knew, also, that even if he had not been locked into a future with Tanya Winters, any sort of relationship with Bella Swan was entirely out of the question. He was a lord, with status and social obligations that were as strong as steel. It's what he had been born to and there seemed no other option.

_Born to, hah!_ thought Edward bitterly. At least that was what he had always thought, until that day last year when he found the packet of papers in a hidden compartment in his late father's desk…

He pushed the thoughts out of his head and urged his horse on harder, crouching lower on the hard-breathing animal.

But yes, he had thought he was well on his way to ridding himself of the troublesome infatuation he had with the girl in the black dress and cap and apron. Until yesterday.

The stricken look on Bella's face as he stepped into the doorway to investigate the crash he heard moved him. Never before had he experienced such a desire to comfort anyone, to reassure them that all was well. And because his pull to her was so strong, he had to leave almost immediately to keep himself from going to her and smoothing the panic from her face.

He thought of little else for the remaining hours of the afternoon and evening. Anxiously he waited until it seemed safe to ascend to the third floor. He felt he had no choice – he was unable to resist seeing her and telling her not to worry about anything at all.

And so for the fourth time in a month, he found himself in Bella Swan's small room, smelling the lavender and wishing he could settle in a comfortable chair and spend the evening in conversation there.

He had lied to her, of course. His mother had loved those vases. But his mother had also taught him that people were immeasurably more important than things. He knew she would have approved.

Edward had intended for this visit to be the last – the absolute last. He could not continue to creep silently around the servant's quarters like a lovesick boy. He was the lord of the manor and he should not be ducking around corners, afraid of being discovered in his own home.

But quarter of an hour with Bella had not sated his desire to see her. It had the opposite effect, and now his appetite was merely whetted.

As the ground flew beneath his horse's hooves, Edward realized he was far from through with Bella Swan.

**-xxx-**

"Bella?"

Bella's head snapped up from her needlepoint. It was a new project, a bird encircled by a wreath of blowsy roses. Lizzie had complimented her on it and Bella was glad, as she expected it might become a wedding gift for her soon.

"Hmmm?" said Bella.

"I asked you if you wanted to take a walk into town on Saturday," said Lizzie. "I need more green thread and you keep complaining about your needle catching on the linen. I thought perhaps you might need a new one."

"Oh! Oh yes, that would be lovely," said Bella, making a show of smiling brightly.

Lizzie looked at her critically. "You seem so distracted. Is everything alright?"

"Of course. I'm fine," Bella answered, smiling again in the firelight.

Mrs. Cope looked up from her knitting.

"I don't know," she said, winking at Lizzie. "I've seen this kind of 'distraction' before. That nice Crowley boy who delivers meat from town, he seemed awfully friendly last time you answered the door for him. I believe you know him…?"

Mrs. Cope smiled as she looked at Bella and Lizzie.

Bella gave a laugh. "Truly, no! I know his, family they're nice people. But no! I am not 'distracted' by him."

Mrs. Cope shrugged her shoulders. "Alright. I will take your word for it."

But she looked at Lizzie and they shared a conspiratorial smile.

**-xxx-**

"Ooof!"

With that ungraceful exclamation, Bella set down the heavy bucket of coal ash on the cold ground. She straightened her back and stretched out her arms before she bent down again to tip over the bucket into the large ash pile behind the garden shed. A cloud of gray-black dust flew up and swirled around Bella as she tried to duck out of its way. Choking back a cough she backed away from the ash pile, beating dust out her dress and apron.

Emptying coal buckets was on the list of Bella's least favorite household chores. She never felt so much like a menial laborer as when she was assigned that task.

Picking up the bucket, she turned back toward Wrenfield Hall. Walking straight for her was Lord Masen.

_Oh please no! Not like this! Not covered in ash behind the gardening shed!_

She stood awkwardly, wishing fervently that the earth would open and swallow her whole.

He approached and stopped in front of her.

"Miss Swan," he said.

Bella curtsied.

"Sir."

"And how are you?"

"Fine, sir." _Please, please, please,let me go! I can't talk to you knowing I probably have gray smudges on my face!_

He gave a small smile.

"You look as though you have been adorning yourself with war paint like the Indians in America," he said.

Bella looked quizzically at him.

"Ash. On your face," he replied.

She drew in a deep breath. There was no hiding it, so she jutted her chin out and gave a tight smile.

"Yes, sir. It happens."

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to have fun at your expense," he apologized. "Forgive me."

He smiled that crooked smile and inwardly Bella groaned. He could be forgiven nearly any offense with that smile.

"Of course, sir," she said.

He looked over her servant costume, her cap askew, gray streaks on her forehead and left cheek, a stray lock of hair hanging down the side of her face. He found the picture entirely appealing.

A beat passed.

"Is there anything I can assist you with?" Bella asked.

It was Edward's turn to look uncomfortable.

"Well, yes. Perhaps."

Bella looked expectantly.

"I was wondering…hoping really, or maybe…it was just a thought I had…" This was not coming out how he had planned at all.

He tried again.

"I enjoyed your company the other evening. I love the country very much, but it does get lonely here. I have no one to converse with about books and ideas. You are very…bright. I wanted to ask you if perhaps we could spend time together again. Just to talk."

Bella blinked. Edward waited.

"I realize that I was very forward of me to come to your room those nights, and entirely inappropriate and I would not blame you if you were appalled by my – "

"Of course."

"Pardon?" said Edward.

"Of course I would be happy to spend time with you. In conversation." _Yes, yes, yes._ "I too, miss talking about the things I have read. I used to have my father for that. Now I have no one."

Edward smiled. "Wonderful," he said quietly.

"When and where shall I meet you?" asked Bella.

Edward shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth as if to speak and then closed it.

"Shall we continue with my room?" Bella asked, reading his thoughts. "I am at the end of the hall and the room on the other side is unoccupied. No one will hear us if we are quiet. It is probably better if you are ever discovered wandering in your own home late at night than I."

Edward nodded, relieved. He had the same thought but it felt indecent to propose.

"And please, Miss Swan – do not misunderstand. I only have the most honorable intentions. I desire a conversation partner, nothing more." He looked seriously into her eyes.

Bella looked back and could see that he was being honest and she felt at ease with his declaration – but a small part of her, a part she did not acknowledge, felt a little disappointed.

**-xxx-**

Bella sat still on the edge of her bed, undecided. She had been in her room for an hour with no sign of Lord Masen. She didn't even know if he was coming tonight – no specific plans had been made, but she had hoped. But now she was tired and wanted to change into her nightdress and lie down.

_I'll just wait another few minutes –_

Her thoughts were interrupted by a soft knock at the door. Her heart jumped and she stood up quickly, smoothed her hair and opened the door.

"Hello."

"Hello."

"Please come in." Bella opened the door further to admit her guest.

With the door shut quietly, Bella and Lord Masen stood opposite each other in the tiny room. She smiled politely, nervously, her hands clasped in front of her.

"I'm sorry for the late hour. Several of the staff were still up."

"Of course," said Bella.

They continued to stand, awkwardly.

"May I?" he asked, indicating the wooden chair behind her.

"Oh! Yes! Certainly," Bella exclaimed, embarrassed. "Please pardon me, I'm not used to 'entertaining' here," she continued, wryly.

She sat down on her bed, the only other option. Again they smiled at each other politely.

"What-"

"How-"

Bella and Lord Masen spoke simultaneously.

"Please, you first," said Masen.

"I was just going to ask what book you are reading currently," said Bella. "You know what I am occupied with," she said, gesturing to _Gulliver's Travels_ on her nightstand.

"A fascinating book by a French author, Jules Verne, _Vingt Mille Lieues Sous Les Mers,_" he said. "You may have heard of it – there was an English translation published a few years ago – _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea."_

"I have heard of it, but haven't read it. My French is really very bad," said Bella ruefully.

"I understand the English translation isn't very good. Entire sections were left out and the translation of the title is even off – it should be _seas_ and not _sea. _Perhaps we'll have to work on your French and then I'll lend you the book."

Bella smiled and settled back against her pillow that had been propped up against the wall.

"Tell me about the book," she asked, eagerly.

Without hesitation, Edward launched into a summary of the book, describing the mysterious underwater vessel that three men find themselves captive aboard and their adventures; encountering the lost city of Atlantis, fighting off a giant squid and narrowly escaping certain death in an enormous whirlpool.

Bella listened with rapt attention, asking questions and offering comments as he talked. The awkwardness of the initial moments of their evening melted away and soon Bella forgot that he was a lord with more money and land than anyone within a hundred miles and that she was a nearly penniless orphan who scrubbed his floors.

The talk moved from Jules Verne to the works of another French author Victor Hugo. Bella proclaimed _Les Miserables _to be his greatest work, and while Edward did not disagree, he admitted to a preference for _Notre-Dame de Paris_ – _The Hunchback of Notre-Dame._

At a pause, Edward pulled a pocket watch out and looked at it.

"Midnight," he said, looking at Bella.

"The witching hour," she said with a teasingly mysterious voice.

"Yes," said Edward, standing. "I should go before the demons begin creeping about."

"They wouldn't dare – not in this house!" said Bella. "They'd be terrified of what Mrs. Mallory would do if she caught them tracking in dirt or disturbing any of the china."

Edward laughed. "Yes, Mrs. Mallory is a force to be reckoned with. I wouldn't cross her myself!"

Bella stood, too.

"Thank you, sir, for the visit. I had a lovely evening."

The smile on his face faded as he looked at her face.

"No. Thank you," he said in a low voice. "I don't know when I've ever enjoyed a conversation so much. It's unbelievably refreshing to have someone to share my thoughts with, someone who has read so many of the same books and who has such interesting perspectives and opinions."

Bella lowered her head, blushing at the compliments.

"Thank you," she said simply.

He extended his hand. Bella looked up through her lashes and slowly reached out to take his hand.

As their fingers met, the charge they had both felt in the kitchen the month before reappeared, coursing up each hand and arm.

Bella drew in a breath and withdrew her hand. Edward looked intently at her but said nothing.

He moved to the door.

"Goodnight, Bella Swan."

"Goodnight, Lord Masen."

**Thanks for the support, everybody! It helps!**

**I'll be away for the weekend (Cape Cod, here we come) and might not be able to post. I'll try but I'm afraid the hubs might get suspicious ("Honey! What are you doing in there?" and then he comes in to find me - dun dun duunnnn - **_**posting Twlight fanfic!**__**Noooooooooo!)**_

**So, have a great weekend, probably be back with chapter seven on Monday.**


	6. Chapter Six

**Chapter Six**

Every night for the next week, as soon as the household was still and quiet, Bella could expect a soft knock at her door. She would quickly admit Lord Masen, mindful of the need for discretion in their friendship, and would settle on to her bed while he sat in the straight-backed wooden chair for the evening.

They would talk literature, disagree about the merits of Charles Dickens (Masen thought he was overly sentimental and preyed too much on the emotion of his readers while Bella found his work moving, not least because Dickens himself had found himself impoverished and compelled to work in a factory at a young age – she felt a kinship to him that she thought Lord Masen could not understand and told him so – strongly), share passages of poetry and discussed whether Mrs. Cope was the best cook in the world or just _one_ of the best.

One night Edward brought a chessboard and a bag full of carved wooden pieces. He set the board on the edge of the bed, brought his chair closer and spent the evening teaching Bella to play the ancient game.

It was the most enjoyable week of Bella's life.

On their seventh evening together, as Bella stood to bid Masen goodnight, he shifted uncomfortably for a moment before saying "I won't be able to come visit tomorrow night."

Disappointment registered quickly on Bella's face, and just as quickly she banished it.

"Oh?" she inquired.

"Yes. I'm having guests for the weekend. My aunt and uncle and my cousins will be visiting."

"Well, have a lovely time," said Bella, brightly. Her face no longer betrayed any of her feelings at the prospect of several nights without Edward. She looked perfectly serene.

Edward paused.

"I'll miss our evenings," he said, quietly.

Again, Bella smiled, too quickly.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy having them here," she said, the smile still on her face.

Edward's eyes searched her face. She remained unchanged.

"I'll try to come if I can. Good night, Bella," he said.

"Good night, sir," Bella replied, firmly, with a smile and a nod.

As soon as Edward left the room, Bella changed quickly into her nightdress, cleaned her teeth and crawled into bed. She curled up into a ball, hugging herself as if to sooth the sudden hurt she felt.

Over the last week, in this small room, she had felt more alive than she ever had in her twenty-one years. Her mind was engaged, her spirits were lifted, she felt valued. Lord Masen solicited her opinions – and listened. She felt free to agree or disagree with him and loved to glean from him what she had not had the opportunity to learn in her modest education.

For the first time since her father died, she had found a place that felt like home.

Now, the days and nights stretched out ahead of her. Alone. And worse than the feeling of loneliness that was already starting to settle in on her was the reminder that she was an unsuitable friend for Lord Masen. She was not of his class – she would not be welcome in the drawing room for a round of cards after dinner or be invited for picnics or horseback rides through the golden countryside. She was not worthy of being introduced to his family.

Feeling insignificant and embarrassed for thinking of Lord Masen as a friend, Bella squeezed her eyes shut tight and willed sleep to come.

**-xxx-**

The next day was a flurry of activity as the entire staff prepared for the Cullens' visit. Rooms were aired, buckets of coal were hauled into guest rooms and beds were freshly made. Fall flower arrangements were brought in from the gardens and the kitchen was abuzz with the preparations for the welcome dinner.

Bella scarcely had time to think of the lonely evening that awaited her.

Late in the afternoon Lizzie came rushing into one of the guest bedrooms where Bella was just smoothing the bedspread.

"They're almost here," said Lizzie. "Quick, put this on."

She handed Bella a clean white apron.

Quickly Bella untied her soiled apron and replaced it with the fresh one.

"Come along," urged Lizzie as she made her way to the door and into the hall.

Bella was confused.

"Where are we going?" she wondered aloud.

"Outside to greet the Cullens," Lizzie said, with a look that said _don't you know?_

"Oh!" said Bella. She felt her face grow warm. She had managed to avoid seeing Lord Masen all day and now she was sure to be near him.

During the previous week when they had spent their evenings together she had only seen him four times, and each time there was no acknowledgement from either party. It was simpler that way.

But last night's announcement that they would not see each other while his family was visiting highlighted how far apart they were in class and status. It had unintentionally hurt Bella, and she was embarrassed by just how hurt she felt. She only wanted to finish her work and disappear to her room.

Bella followed Lizzie along the hallway, down the stairs and through the great entrance hall to the outside where the staff was assembling in a line, awaiting the arrival of the Cullen's carriage.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar mess of hair and a lean, muscular figure. Staring straight ahead, she willed an impassive look to her face.

Lord Masen's posture mirrored her own as he watched down the long drive for the approaching carriage. Anyone watching the line of people in front of the great house would never have guessed at any special connection.

After a minute, with a clattering of hooves, the Cullen's large and elegant carriage came to a stop in front of Wrenfield Hall.

Bella watched, curiously, as a beautiful older woman with upswept hair gracefully exited the carriage, assisted by the hand of Lord Masen.

"Aunt Esme," he said with a smile. "I'm so glad you've arrived."

The woman smiled kindly and gave him a maternal embrace.

"Edward dear, it's lovely to see you," she said, patting his cheek.

Esme was followed by a handsome gentleman with kind and intelligent eyes.

"Uncle Carlisle," said Edward with a handclasp and a smile

"Edward," he said, nodding and smiling warmly.

The next two to step out of the carriage were some of the most handsome men Bella had ever seen, Lord Masen excluded.

"Jasper, Emmett," Edward said with brotherly joviality.

"Have your guns cleaned and ready to go, cousin?" said the dark haired man Edward had referred to as Emmett. "I've been practicing my shot and you'll not beat me this time."

He flashed a friendly grin and clapped Lord Masen's arm with an enormous hand.

"Oh Emmett, please," a silken voice said. Stepping out of the carriage was a woman so lovely Helen of Troy would have paled in comparison. Her icy blue eyes were framed by dark lashes and perfectly arched eyebrows. Her sleek blond hair was fashionably arranged, upon which sat a dark red hat that matched her traveling coat.

"Let us at least all get out of the carriage before you arrange your first target practice contest," the beautiful woman continued with slight exasperation.

"Sorry, darling," Emmett said as he put an arm around her waist, pulling her close to him.

"Rosalie," said Edward, with a slight bow of his head.

"Edward," the blond woman said with a similar acknowledgement.

One final figure exited the carriage.

"Cousin!" said a high-pitched voice, belonging to a tiny woman with shiny black hair. Perched on her head was a small hat of the latest style with short, spiky black feathers.

The little woman leaped gracefully from the carriage, unassisted, and threw herself into Edward's arms.

Edward chuckled and hugged her back.

"Hello, Alice," he said, obviously happy to see her. "You managed to stay in the carriage for the whole trip and not get out to run along side the horses? You seem to have the energy for it."

The other young man came to Alice's side and gave her an adoring, yet amused look, snaking his hand into hers.

"We probably would have gotten here sooner if she had been in charge," he said quietly.

"Oh Jasper," she said with a giggle and a playful push.

"Well, we're all here," said Edward, looking satisfied. "Come inside, please! Mrs. Cope has tea waiting for us in the drawing room."

With arms around each other, the Cullen clan, with Edward at its center, headed up the stairs and into the great house.

Bella watched them go wistfully. She had lived alone with her father for nearly as long as she could remember, and now that he was gone, she felt adrift. In her heart she longed for a home and family, but it seemed like such a far off possibility.

_They are blessed_, she thought as she followed the others servants back inside Wrenfield Hall. _I hope they know that._

**-xxx-**

Bella tossed and turned. She had been in bed for more than an hour now, and she was no closer to sleep now than when she had first pulled the covers up to her neck to keep out the chill. She wished she could read herself to sleep but she had already finished _Gulliver's Travels._

She sighed. _I just need a book_, she decided.

With that, she threw off her blankets and reached for her shawl and lamp.

Creeping through the corridor and down the stairs, Bella listened intently for any sounds of activity. The house lay silent. Further down the hall, the great clock struck quarter past midnight.

As she had in the past, Bella padded silently through the hallways until she reached the library door. She knew from her other late-night visits that the floor creaked just to the left of the doorway, so she quietly opened the door and stepped inside, careful to avoid the offending floorboards.

Once inside, Bella relaxed. She loved the library. Limitations did not exist for her within these walls.

Stepping closer to the bookcases, she lifted her lamp to illuminate the titles on the spines of the books.

_The History of England from the Accession of James II, The Count of Monte Cristo, On the Origin of Species…_

At this one, Bella paused and carefully slid it off the shelf.

She crossed to the large oak table where she set her lamp down and then opened the book.

"What are you doing?" a quiet voice asked.

Bella gasped and her hand flew to her mouth. Standing in the doorway was a small, dark figure. Mrs. Alice Hale.

Bella's heart pounded uncomfortably. Unlike before, she was not immediately worried about losing her position. Lord Masen had assured her that should she ever be discovered, any questions should be directed to him. But this was his family – how would they look on his decision to share his library with a servant? It certainly was not how things were "done."

No, this time Bella was worried for Edward's reputation.

"I…"

_What should I say?_ Bella thought frantically.

"Not that I really care," said Alice, in a relaxed tone. "I assume you're not planning on stealing that book?" she asked, archly.

"N-no," Bella stammered.

"Well then," she gave a little shrug. "Read away. Do you come in here often? It's quite an impressive library, wouldn't you say?"

Bella was confused. This woman didn't seem at all bothered by a servant being where she certainly ought not be, at an hour when she certainly should not have been creeping about the house.

Still, she felt nervous. What should she say? How much would Lord Masen have her reveal? Should Bella lie and beg Alice not to tell Lord Masen, letting her think he was unaware that she used the library? Should she say that she borrowed books with his blessing?

Alice was at her side now, looking at her with those dark, friendly eyes.

"Are you going to talk to me at all?" she asked with a quizzical look on her delicate face.

"Well," began Bella, clearing her throat, "sometimes I-"

Bella's half-hearted explanation was halted by a creak just outside the door. Both women quickly turned their heads to the doorway, where Lord Masen stood.

"Oh, hello, Edward," sang out Alice, easily. "Come in! We're just chatting in here."

Edward glanced quickly at Bella, book in hand and panicked look on her face, and then to Alice.

"She has permission to use the library," he said to Alice as he walked into the room.

"Lovely," said Alice, unconcerned.

"And what is your name?" she asked, turning back to Bella.

"Isabella Swan," she said, barely above a whisper. "Bella."

"Well, Bella, I hope you've chosen a good book. It certainly is a big one!" Alice laughed a silvery little laugh. "It should keep you occupied for some time!"

Bella continued to stand as if frozen, eyes cast downward.

Alice looked at Edward, who stood stiffly several feet away from the women, then at Bella, then back to Edward.

"Well…" Alice said, raising her eyebrows just a bit. "I think I shall retire." And she made a movement to leave.

"Yes!" Bella said, a bit too quickly and loudly. "I mean, I also was just leaving."

She felt a flush rising up her neck and into her cheeks.

She curtsied to both Alice and Edward.

"Ma'am. Sir."

Book and lamp in hand, she left the library as quickly as she was able.

Alice turned to Edward. He stared at her with a blank face.

"So," she said as a knowing smile spread across her face.

With that, she kissed her cousin on the cheek and turned to go.

"Good night!" she called happily over her shoulder. "Sleep well!"

**I'm back!**

**Thanks to all who added my story over the weekend. Let me know what you think!**


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

Saturday morning dawned bright and crisp. Bella yawned and stretched as she looked up at the pale blue sky that would brighten as the morning wore on. She judged it was near seven o'clock and that she had better rise and dress if she was to make the most of her half-day off. With the Cullens visiting, Mrs. Mallory had the staff stagger their days off, and only take a half a day at a time.

Bella readied herself quickly, brushing and pinning up her long, dark hair, cleaning her teeth and washing herself with the jug and washbasin. She shivered as the cool water touched her skin, chilled further by the October air. Finally dressed, she tucked a small volume of Shakespeare's sonnets into her handbag and left her room.

Downstairs, Bella slipped in the kitchen door, sweeping her eyes over the busy scene until she caught Mrs. Cope's eye. The pink-cheeked woman winked and gestured to the pantry just inside the door. Bella smiled her thanks, ducking into the pantry and locating a small bundle tied in a clean napkin. Silently, she took the parcel and slipped back out the door and out the servants' entrance to the bright morning air.

She walked briskly for several minutes until she found her favorite reading spot, a large flat stone near an ancient oak tree on a high spot in one of the back fields. The morning sun warmed her back as she settled down on the stone, unwrapping her picnic breakfast from Mrs. Cope. A sweet bun, cheese and an apple. Mrs. Cope knew Bella liked to eat her meals outdoors whenever she could, and it made her happy to baby Bella a little – since her son lived with his own family now, Mrs. Cope missed having someone to mother. As for Bella, having someone take a maternal interest in her touched her. It was an arrangement that worked for both of them.

Bella smiled as she bit into the bun, fresh from the kitchen oven, and looked out over the sloping meadow and stone fences that penned in the grazing sheep beyond.

With a contented sigh, Bella opened the book of Shakespeare's sonnets and quickly got lost.

Within a few minutes, Bella heard the sound of deep voices and laughing to her left. Lowering her book to her lap, her heart gave a jump as she looked and immediately recognized the tousled bronze hair of one of the men who came up over a ridge.

She quickly fastened her eyes to her book again as Lord Masen, his cousins and uncle passed closer to her rock, carrying shotguns and several quail, prizes from their early morning hunting. Two dogs trotted alongside the men.

Realizing that it would look rude if she did not lift her head, she looked up just as the group passed. The jovial conversation ceased as each of the men gave a nod and touched the brims of their caps in acknowledgement. For a brief moment, Lord Masen's eyes met Bella's.

Almost immediately, Jasper resumed his conversation with him, too low for Bella to hear, and Edward's attention returned to his cousin and the hunting party. She sat still for a long while, listening as their conversation faded and was replaced by the morning song of birds.

Her heart actually hurt. She was embarrassed to admit it, even to herself, but his casual glance at her and his unbroken stride as he passed her by made her feel small and she put her hand to her chest as if to soothe an unseen wound.

**-xxx-**

"So! Shall I tell the ladies who returned victor or should you?" boomed Emmett as he sat on a bench in one of the outbuildings, shrugging out of his hunting jacket.

He clapped his enormous hands together and rubbed them gleefully as he looked up at his cousin.

"Oooh, Rose is going to be impressed with her man! Three birds to everyone else's two!" he said with satisfaction.

"Son, I think your wife will be more impressed if you can remember to clean off your boots," Carlisle said wryly, indicating the leather boots that were caked in mud to the ankles.

Consternation clouded Emmett's handsome face. "How did everyone see that puddle but me?" he asked with a confused look.

Edward laughed at his bear of a cousin who sat dejectedly, contemplating his soiled boots.

"I don't know, but I do know that I seem to have left my field glasses out there. I think I remember setting them down. You all go on ahead to breakfast and I will be in shortly."

Edward waved to the other men as he headed back outside and retraced his steps to the back field and the large stone under the oak tree.

He grew more excited with each step back. He hoped she would still be there. He had missed her these past two days. Even in the midst of horseback riding with Alice and Rose, picnicking with the family, target practice with Emmett and Jasper, cards in the evening, laughter around the dinner table, she hovered in his thoughts.

Alice knew. Alice always knew. Since that first night in the library when she found Bella borrowing a book, Alice had attempted to engage Edward in conversation about her. But Edward shared nothing. The less said, the better.

Edward's desire to be with Bella seemed to grow stronger every day. He felt anxious, going days without talking to her. Spending his evenings with her had seemed to center him and now he felt adrift.

As Edward got close enough to see the rock, he could see that she was still there – though now she was sitting with her knees drawn up to her face, her arms wrapped around her knees. A small, solitary figure in the morning sun…

When he was within a few feet of her, Bella's head snapped up. Her eyes were moist.

"Hello," he said with concern, coming to a stop in front of her. "Are you alright?"

Bella blushed as she straightened her body and smoothed out her dress. Her feet hung over the side of the large rock but did not reach the ground.

"Yes. Of course. I'm fine," she lied, pasting on a smile.

Edward frowned.

"May I?" he asked, indicating the space next to her on the rock.

"It's your rock," said Bella, with a shrug and a small smile.

He sat next to her and for a few moments, they both looked out over the fields and rocks and further on to a small grove of trees, through which ran a small brook.

"It's a lovely day," Bella commented.

Edward turned to look at her, then back at the fields.

"Yes."

"Are you hungry?" she asked "I'm certain you'll have a better selection back at the house, but you're welcome to share," she said, indicating her small picnic.

Edward considered her offering, then picked up the half eaten bun. He ate in silence as Bella studied him, watching the movement of his jaw and throat as he swallowed. She had never seen him eat before and the act felt intimate…especially as his teeth bit into the soft roll where she previously had eaten.

When he had finished the roll, she held up the apple. He took the red fruit from her outstretched hand, bit into it and handed it back to her.

She paused a moment, then took her own bite and passed it back.

The two sat in silence but for the crunching of the apple as they shared the fruit back and forth. When there was nothing left but the core, Edward took it and flung it far to the left. They watched it sail in an arc through the bright blue sky.

Still they sat.

Finally, Edward stood.

"They'll be expecting me," he said.

"Of course."

But he made no move to leave.

"I'll see you soon," he said, finally.

Bella looked at him, her head tilted. The sunlight was full on his face and the reddish gold of his hair gleamed.

She nodded. He turned to go.

"Sir?"

Edward faced her.

"Thank you for coming back," she said.

A crooked smile spread across his face, he gave a small bow and he left.

**-xxx-**

A half an hour later, Bella reentered the servants' entrance of Wrenfield Hall.

"Ready?" called a cheerful voice. Bella smiled as she saw Lizzie fastening her cloak at her neck.

"Yes," said Bella "Let's go."

"We'll have to hurry if we are to make it back in time for afternoon chores, but I think we can do it," said Lizzie, as the two young women headed down the lane that led to St. Mary's village.

"Well," said Bella teasingly, "if we had gone last week when we had a full day off we wouldn't need to rush so. Why was it again that we didn't…? Oh yes! I believe you were 'occupied.'"

"Bella! Really? What did you expect me to do? 'No, Bobby, I can't go to the traveling fair with you because I have to go buy green thread.' Honestly! Have you no sense of romance?" Lizzie complained with smile.

The women laughed and continued their banter as they linked arms and walked happily to town.

**-xxx-**

Breakfast over, Alice Cullen Hale stood at one of the tall windows in the drawing room, watching the two figures, heads close together in conversation, walk down the drive and onto the lane that went into the village.

"Rose," she suddenly called. "I'm bored. Let's call for the carriage and go into the village."

"Really?" replied Rosalie, her voice dripping with a mixture of annoyance and disbelief. "There is nothing at all to see in that little hamlet. Don't you remember?"

"Still. I want to go. The men will be busy all morning at the fish pond and I know Esme plans to catch up with her correspondence. We'll have nothing at all to do until the afternoon. Let's go!"

An irritated sigh burst forth from Rosalie as she rolled her eyes and gracefully rose from the chair on which she lounged.

"Alright."

**-xxx-**

"Stop the carriage!" Alice called out, as her sister-in-law gave her a questioning look.

"What's wrong?" said Rosalie, looking out the window and seeing nothing.

"Those two girls we just passed. I think they work at Wrenfield Hall and I want to offer them a ride if they are going into the village."

"Oh for heaven's sake," Rosalie muttered. She was used to this sort of behavior. She had been friends with Alice for years, even before she married her brother Emmett. Alice was forever going out of her way to engage the stable hands in conversation or solicit the opinions of common store clerks. It was an annoying habit, but very "Alice."

The two women waited a moment until the travelers on foot approached the stopped carriage. Alice opened the door and leaned out.

"Hello!" she said cheerfully. "You work at Wrenfield Hall, don't you?"

Bella and Lizzie both nodded.

"Yes, ma'am," said Lizzie, cautiously.

"Are you headed into the village?"

Another nod.

"May we offer you a ride? We are also going that way and it seems a shame for you to walk when we have plenty of room in this carriage."

Bella thought quickly. How could she refuse without being rude? What did Mrs. Hale want? Was she planning on warning her to stay away from her cousin? She couldn't possibly just be offering a ride…

Just as she was to open her mouth to politely decline her offer, Lizzie gave a smile and spoke.

"How very kind of you," she said, graciously. "We are in a bit of a rush today and a ride would be very helpful." And she started for the open carriage door.

Bella had no choice but to follow.

The four women looked at each other. Lizzie with her open, friendly face, Rosalie with her chin elevated and a pinched smile, Alice with her curious energy and Bella – Bella with a slightly distressed look.

Introductions were made and the four women then lapsed into silence as the carriage jostled on. However liberal Alice's views on class and status were, they were not enough to compensate for the ingrained feeling of "otherness" the two pairs of women inevitably felt regarding the other.

"It's a lovely day," Alice said.

"Oh yes!" replied Lizzie with a smile.

Silence.

"Really, a lovely day for a ride," Alice tried again.

"Certainly," said Lizzie. Bella stared out the window while Rose became engrossed in picking non-existent flecks from her gown.

"And how long have you worked at Wrenfield Hall?" Alice said. She was determined to get Bella to speak.

"Nearly a year for me," said Lizzie.

"Oh. Two months," replied Bella, as if the question startled her. She gave a quick smile and resumed her study of the passing trees outside her window.

Inwardly, Alice gave a frustrated sigh. _For goodness sake, talk to me!_ she thought. _I know he feels something for you. What are you all about? What goes on in that head of yours that he obviously cares so much about? He clearly does – I've never seen him so full of light – and yet confused. He's not the least bit affected by Tanya Winters like this, and the way she throws herself at him is just ridiculous. Just what is going on here?_

The women rode in silence that was occasionally broken by an observation on a pretty piece of scenery by Alice and an agreeable comment from Lizzie.

Soon the carriage rolled into St. Mary's village and the four women disembarked, saying their polite goodbyes and going their separate ways.

"Well!" said Rosalie with small huff. "That was lovely."

"Oh Rose! Stop being such a snob!" teased Alice, as she linked her arm through Rosalie's. Rose rolled her eyes but smiled and hugged little Alice's arm closely.

_It's a good thing I have Alice as a friend,_ thought Rosalie affectionately. _She'll keep me in touch with humanity if it's the last thing she does._

**-xxx-**

Purchases made, Bella and Lizzie quickly walked the two miles back to Wrenfield Hall and changed for the afternoon's work. Fresh linens were needed in all of the rooms as well as more buckets of coal. With the cool days and cold nights the fires were kept lit for longer, requiring more trips up the stairs with the heavy copper buckets banging against shins with each step.

As Bella was carrying her third bucket up the stairs, forehead damp with exertion, she was startled to see Lord Masen coming down on the opposite side of the staircase.

Following protocol, she set the bucket down precariously on a step and gave an awkward curtsey, trying with the side of her leg to keep the bucket from tipping over.

Masen gave a nod, and after a quick glance around to ensure that they were alone, he crossed to where Bella stood, clumsily keeping the bucket upright.

"May I visit you tonight?" he asked in a low voice, inches from her face.

Bella's heart thudded at his proximity. He had never stood so close to her and she wished with all she had in her that she was not sweaty and lugging a coal bucket.

"Of course…please," she said, mirroring his low tone.

Footsteps were heard in the hall on the floor below and in an instant Masen continued his descent. Bella picked up the bucket with aching hands and resumed her climb.

_Please! Why did I have to say please! I sound like an eager schoolgirl!_ Bella thought to herself, shaking her head in disapproval.

_Please! She said please! _thought Edward as he walked down the hall, and a smile crept on his face.

**Alright ladies (and gents? really?), here's another one for you. I'm off again this weekend (woohoo Vermont!) but I have another chapter ready and waiting for when I get back. (Sorry I'm not posting them both tonight! I've got to strrrretch it out to give myself time to write the next one, or we'll have a long dry spell.)**

**Hope you guys are loving reading half as much as I am loving writing! **

**xoxo**

**p.s. Thanks for reading, really - and thanks for reviews. It's so nice to hear how you are reacting to the story!**

**p.p.s. Any gents, for real? Because that would just knock my socks off.**

**p.p.p.s. In response to a question from a reader regarding inspiration for the house and other locations (inside and outside of the house), I am planning on putting up a set of photos of Flickr of locales and items that have inspired this story. I'll let you know when it's up!**


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

The clock struck eleven in the great hall as Edward made his way quietly up to Bella's room. A soft knock and he was admitted to the small room.

Neither spoke for a moment as they smiled their hellos in the soft lamplight.

The feeling between them had changed from their previous evenings together. Perhaps it was the shared picnic on the rock that morning, perhaps it was Bella's "please." Whatever it was, it was nearly palpable.

"Please sit," said Bella.

Edward sat. "Thank you," he replied.

Bella nestled onto her bed, tucking her legs to the side and pulling her shawl tighter around her.

"I brought you something," said Edward standing again, holding out his hand. A small box lay on it.

Bella gave him a look of shy surprise and one corner of her mouth pulled up into a small smile.

"Oh?" She sat up on her knees, leaning back on her heels.

"May I?" asked Edward, indicating the bed.

Bella nodded her assent and Edward sat carefully on the edge of the bed and handed her the box. It was covered with elegant patterned paper, pale blue with gold scrollwork.

"It's lovely," Bella said quietly, her finger tracing one of the graceful scrolls. After a moment, she lifted the lid up to reveal four glossy chocolates nestled in pale blue paper that matched the box.

"Ohhh…" she breathed. "Chocolate!"

She lifted her shining eyes to him. "Thank you! I haven't had chocolate since last Christmas. My father always made sure there was some for Christmas dinner and I love it so!"

Excitedly, she lifted one of the brown delicacies and took a bite. The shell hid a silky smooth, buttery interior. It was better than anything she had ever tasted. Her eyes fluttered closed.

Edward watched intently as she sat still, allowing the chocolate to melt on her tongue and flow through her mouth. His heart beat a little faster and he inhaled the chocolate scent through his nose, his lips slightly pursed.

"Ummm…it's so good!" she said enthusiastically after a moment and opened her eyes.

The look of intensity on his face gave her pause and she swallowed.

"You have…" his voice trailed off as he indicated the corner of her mouth.

"Oh!" Bella said, slightly embarrassed as she wiped the chocolate smudge with her finger and then licked it clean.

Edward smiled and stood, returning to his chair.

"Esme brought the chocolates for me from London and I thought, since you were so kind to share your morning meal with me I should return the favor."

"Thank you so much," said Bella sincerely. "Will you have one?" she asked, holding out the box.

"No, no. This is for you, I insist."

Bella smiled. "Thank you again," and she popped the remainder of the chocolate in her mouth, closed the box and set it on her bedside table.

_No, thank you_, Edward thought silently as he watched her finish the chocolate and give a satisfied sigh. Perhaps he would bring chocolates every night…

"I understand from Rosalie that you had a chance to visit with her and Alice today," he said, stretching his legs out in front of him. They were so long they reached across the floor to Bella's bed.

Bella looked uncomfortable.

"Yes," she said. "I'm afraid I didn't leave a very good impression."

Edward frowned. "What do you mean?"

She sighed. "I don't know. I get so tongue-tied sometimes I can't seem to speak a single intelligent sentence."

"I've never noticed," he said.

"Well of course you wouldn't, I seem to have no trouble talking to you. Honestly, I think I could talk to you all night and never once have to think about what to say next."

Bella was suddenly embarrassed. What would he think of her too-honest ramblings?

Quickly, she tried to backtrack. "I mean, I just find you an easy conversationalist…"

She stopped, her cheeks reddening. She was sure she was making it worse.

Edward looked at her and smiled.

"No, I understand," he said quietly.

_He's a true gentleman_, thought Bella, _trying to make me feel less foolish. Unless he really feels the same…_

"So," Edward interrupted her thoughts. "You're reading the Bard's sonnets? Tell me your favorite."

The rest of the evening was spent in conversation, quiet laughter, even some mild debate.

When Edward pulled out his pocket watch and announced the arrival of the witching hour, Bella stood up reluctantly. He, too, wished the evening did not have to end, but he knew that Bella's day started earlier than his and he felt guilty enough already about depriving her of much needed rest.

He moved to the door and Bella stepped closer to it as well, her hand on the doorknob.

"Thank you again for the chocolate," she said quietly, looking into his deep green eyes.

A serious look passed over his face.

_Careful, Edward_, he warned himself.

But he couldn't help himself. He hesitated for a moment, then swiftly lifted a hand to her arm. The shawl had slipped from her shoulder, exposing her dress sleeve. Gently, his hand ran down the length of her upper arm, stopping at her elbow where his fingers lingered for a moment.

And then, he was gone with the door shut quietly and firmly behind him.

Bella leaned back against the door weakly. She could still feel where his fingers had traced down her arm, a burning, tingling line.

After a moment, she collected herself and moved to ready herself for bed.

_Don't think about it, Bella_, she told herself. _Don't read more into it than was intended._

But even with that admonition, Bella could not fathom what that intention might have been.

**-xxx-**

After next morning's breakfast, Edward and Carlisle retired to the drawing room together. The women had left for a fall garden tour of a neighboring country manor and Emmett and Jasper had gone out hunting. Carlisle felt tired and opted to stay in for the morning, and Edward remained with his uncle. He had correspondence to attend to and this morning was as good a time as any.

The two men settled in, Edward at his desk and Carlisle in a chair before the fire, book in hand.

After an hour, Carlisle set his book down and looked up.

"Edward?"

Edward looked up, pen in hand. "Yes?"

"I want to speak to you. Can you spare a moment?"

"Of course, uncle," said Edward, as he set his pen down and took the chair next to Carlisle.

"What's on your mind?" Edward asked.

Carlisle thought for a moment.

"I think of you as a son – you know that, right? Ever since your parents died, I have felt it my honor to look out for you and your brother as I do my own children. Not that you really need any looking after – you do more than fine on your own."

Edward smiled, nodding his thanks. "I appreciate that."

"I do have one…concern. You're twenty-eight, Edward. I think it's time you start thinking about finding a companion."

Edward stiffened.

"Now, I'm not suggesting that you go out and marry the first girl you dance with at the next ball in London. No, I'm just saying that you need to start opening your eyes to possibilities."

Carlisle watched him carefully.

"What about Tanya Winters? She's a lovely girl, very accomplished. And she seems interested in you, if I may say so."

Edward nodded. "Yes, she is lovely, and I spent quite a bit of time with her when I was in London last. In fact, the letter I'm composing right now is to her."

Carlisle leaned back in his chair and gave a satisfied smile, his hands folded in his lap.

"Ah! Yes, I'm glad to hear that."

"She is lovely," repeated Edward as he stood and forced a smile at his uncle. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?"

"No, no," said Carlisle with a wave of his hand. "Back to your letter!"

Still smiling stiffly, Edward returned to his desk.

_For a man who is writing a letter to a woman and beautiful and gracious as Miss Winters, he seems…unenthused, _mused Carlisle.

Across the room, Edward stared at his nearly finished letter to Tanya. It had taken him two days to write it. He found it nearly impossible to come up with enough of the witty chatter he knew she liked to take up a single page. Now the time had come to sign the pathetic letter and Edward was stuck.

"Yours truly" seemed trite, "Sincerely" seemed too formal, "Love" was out of the question and "Fondly" was an outright lie.

Tanya signed her letters to him "Always, your Tanya." It bothered him, her assumptions. But he had to face the reality that soon enough she likely would, in fact, be his Tanya.

After a few more moments staring at the paper, Edward picked up the pen and wrote a decisive "All the best, Edward" at the bottom of the page. He blotted the words, folded the letter and put it in an envelope. He stood up, relieved to be finished with his task.

"Carlisle, I'm going out for a walk. Would you care to join me?" Edward asked.

"Thank you, no. I think I'll just go to my room and have a short rest before lunch." He smiled up at Edward.

Edward looked concerned. "Are you feeling well?" he asked.

"Well enough," said Carlisle, with a dismissive wave of the hand. "I'm just tired. I'm not as young as I once was, you know."

"Alright then, I shall see you at lunch," said Edward, and he walked out the door.

**-xxx-**

Edward walked rapidly, working his muscles until they ached from climbing up and down the hills and dales of the land surrounding the brook. He splashed through the water, which was barely a trickle at this time of year and pulled himself up by tree limbs that grew on the sides of the banks, hanging over the brook. This had been one of his favorite places as a child and he loved it still.

Finally, he came to his destination, a small stone bridge that spanned the short distance from bank to bank. It was unnecessary now, but when the snows melted in the spring and the water came rushing through, or after a hard summer rain, the stone bridge was essential for crossing over.

Edward sat on the top of the bridge's stone wall, his feet hanging over the side. He looked at the dull gray sky that was visible through the bare skeletons of trees.

_Bella_, he thought.

Then he shook his head. _This is getting out of hand. I touched her – and in a way that is entirely inappropriate._

He allowed himself a moment to reflect on the thrill he felt when he ran his hand down the length of her arm, her quick intake of breath and the look on her face betraying that she, too, felt something wonderful at his touch.

He rubbed his hands over his face and then up through his hair, sticking it up on end.

That was it. He was instituting a "no contact" rule for himself. He would permit himself to visit her, but he would not get near here, would not touch her in any way.

If he kept that barrier up then he could still have her friendship and not complicate matters further.

Because he knew that soon enough, the friendship would have to end. When he became engaged to Tanya it would cease to be an option. Bella would have to go back to being just another housemaid and the late night visits would end. They would have to.

But until then…Edward told himself he was not stepping too far out of line.

_Damn James! _Edward thought suddenly. He picked up a broken piece of a branch and hurled it violently toward a thick tree on the bank where it splintered upon contact.

He wished he wasn't so trapped! But James had made it clear to him…do as I say and all will be well. Your secret – _her_ secret – will be safe. Her good name will be preserved, the family bank account will swell and we'll all live happily ever after.

Edward had never liked the plan, but his objections had always been nebulous, some vague idea that it wasn't in his best interest, not to mention hating being controlled by James' blatant blackmail. But now – now that his happily ever after had come to live at Wrenfield Hall and was probably scrubbing floors at this very moment – now his objections were sharp and focused.

He objected to marrying Tanya Winters for one simple reason: because he wanted to marry Bella Swan instead. But he was trapped and he could see no way out.

**-xxx-**

That evening Edward and Bella spent a pleasant hour reading aloud from _Tom Sawyer_, a new book by an American author that Carlisle had brought Edward from London. Edward had brought the book to show Bella and she was so enthused about it he suggested they read together. He had already read the first three chapters but he was more than happy to revisit them with Bella. She sat curled up on her bed, listening drowsily to Edward's voice, rich and smooth as honey.

_I could listen to his voice forever,_ thought Bella wistfully, as she watched his lips move. The cadence of his voiced was soothing and eventually her eyes slid shut.

After a minute, Edward noticed her closed eyes and stopped reading. For a moment, he took in the scene that was laid out before him.

Bella's slim figure had moved from a partially upright position when she was awake to one in nearly complete repose, lying almost horizontal on the bed. Her head had drooped until it had found her right arm, which it now used as a pillow. Her dark, glossy hair, which had worked its way free of most of its hairpins, lay in untidy waves on her arm, spilling over to the modest quilt that covered her bed. Her breath came at regular intervals through her parted lips.

Edward watched her and fought an urge to take off his jacket and cover her from the chill of the room. Instead, he quietly shut the book at stood.

Bella's eyes flew open. "Oh! I'm so sorry," she said apologetically, straightening up and rubbing her eyes.

"Please, Bella," Edward said in a hushed voice. "Go to sleep. I take too much of your time already and you look so tired."

It was true. Bella was exhausted, but she wouldn't trade her sleep deprivation if it meant not seeing Edward in the evenings. They were the highlight of her day and she looked forward to them more than she would ever admit.

"No," she said, looking straight into his eyes. "You don't take too much of my time at all."

Edward pressed his lips together and gave a slight bow.

"Goodnight, Bella," he whispered, and left the room.

**I'm back! Vermont is lovely this time of year - go if you can!**

**With the publication of this chapter, you now have all of what I have completed so far. I've started writing chapter ten but you'll have to wait a few days for me to actually have something publication-worthy.**

**Also, info regarding the Flickr photo set will be in the next chapter. Then you can photos of some of the places and things that have inspired this story.**

**Thanks for the messages and reviews. It's kind of silly, but they really do help me. Keep 'em coming! Please and thank you!**


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

"Lizzie, you will help Mr. and Mrs. Emmett Cullen pack this afternoon, Janet, you are to assist Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle Cullen and Bella, you will help Mr. and Mrs. Hale. Any questions?"

Mrs. Mallory looked sharply at the housemaids who stood at attention during their morning meeting. All the young women shook their heads and so Mrs. Mallory dismissed them with a wave of her hand.

_Here's to hoping Bella can keep from dropping anything of the Hales', _thought Mrs. Mallory with irritation. Though Bella had been an exemplary employee on all counts but one, Mrs. Mallory had a hard time letting go of the vase-dropping incident. _Heaven help us all if she broke something of Mrs. Rosalie Cullen's, and Janet knows Mr. and Mrs. Cullen best, she's been here longest. No, having Bella help the Hales is our best bet. In fact, Alice would probably be delighted if Bella dropped her favorite frock in a pile of coal ash. It would give her the opportunity to shower Bella with forgiveness and affection entirely inappropriate for someone of her station._

Mrs. Mallory sniffed. She did not approve of Mrs. Hale's penchant for offering to assist the gardener in pulling weeds or coming into the kitchen to greet Mrs. Cope with a hug and a kiss whenever she visited.

She gave an audible _tsk_ and stalked off to get a hot cup of tea.

**-xxx-**

Bella set down the basket of freshly washed and folded clothing and knocked quietly on the Jasper and Alice Hale's bedroom. After hearing no response, Bella let herself in the room, carrying the wicker laundry basket. Mr. and Mrs. Hale's trunks lay open on the floor, partially filled with an impressive number of shoes. Two hatboxes were stacked to the side and two gorgeous gowns, one in rose pink taffeta and one in rich brown velvet, lay out on the vast bed, ready to be carefully packed in the trunk.

Bella looked around at the beautiful room. Light poured in from the enormous windows and made the pale blue silk bedding and canopy glow nearly white. A slightly darker shade of blue silk damask covered the walls, it's regal pattern shimmering in the mid-morning sun. Thick carpet rendered Bella's footsteps mute as she set down the basket and crossed to the mahogany dressing table, laid with a silver hairbrush and matching hand mirror on a silver tray. Bella gingerly touched the back of the hairbrush, her fingers lightly running over the graceful raised design. Her fingers trailed off the brush and glided over to a folded silk scarf on the dressing table. Gently, she smoothed the delicate wisp of fabric but suddenly stopped and winced as her rough, work-worn fingers caught on the scarf. She looked closely, but no damage was done to the fabric. Slowly, she turned over her hands and examined them.

Two months of scrubbing floors, polishing silver, hauling buckets of coal and sweeping out fireplaces had taken their toll. Her hands, once smooth and soft, were rough and red, with a web of fine lines and cracks covering the palms.

Her battered hands stood in sharp contrast to the refined and elegant room in which she stood. Bella's eyes smarted as she looked around the room again.

_I don't fit in here_, she thought sadly. _I only belong here as long as I am carrying the laundry or filling the lamps. This room – this house – needs a mistress who is worthy of its grandeur. I do not qualify._

Bella started as she realized for the first time what she wanted. She wanted to be Edward's wife. And not because of the riches and privilege that came with that title. That had never been an enticement. But she was suddenly aware that she wanted to marry Edward more than anything she had ever desired in her life. She wanted to be at his side until they were too old to walk straight, too tired to stay up much past sundown and too satisfied with a lifetime of love to want anyone but each other.

The beautiful pale blue room with its rich elegance just served to highlight the difference between where she and Edward stood in life. Edward would certainly choose a wife who would fit into Wrenfield Hall seamlessly, one who would enhance the beauty in every room. Bella would be lucky to dust the mantles and floorboards.

Bella's head dropped and one tear threatened to spill out onto her cheek. Furiously, she jammed the heels of her hands up to her eyes and rubbed hard, then, shaking her head sharply she crossed back over to the laundry basket and began pulling out stacks of the Hale's sleeping attire, stockings and other underclothes, arranging them in neat piles on the bed. Done with that task, she moved over to the wardrobe and opened the doors, surveying the hanging garments and deciding which items to first gently fold into the trunks. With her first armload, she knelt at the trunks and began methodically packing.

After a few minutes, the door opened and Alice walked in.

"Bella! How lovely to see you!" she exclaimed, moving quickly and gracefully over to where Bella was straightening up from the floor.

"Mrs. Hale," said Bella, politely with a quick curtsey.

"Really, Bella – that's not necessary," she said with a genuine smile, placing her hand on Bella's. "Call me Alice, please."

Bella looked curiously at the small woman with friendly elfin face. Could she really be sincere? She treated Bella as an equal – should Bella truly respond as such?

After a quick moment's consideration, Bella decided to proceed – with caution.

"Thank you – Alice," said Bella with a smile.

Alice returned her smile with a grin.

"Now. Where are we?" she asked, looking around at the piles of clothing.

"I've packed the gowns you won't be wearing for dinner this evening or for traveling tomorrow and am now moving on to underthings," said Bella, indicating a pile on the bed.

Together Alice and Bella worked through the piles of Alice's stockings and other underclothes and Jasper's shirts and trousers until the only items left unpacked were the items needed between now and departure tomorrow morning. As the two women worked, a natural conversation flowed. Since Bella had decided that Alice was sincere in her overtures of friendship (confusing though it was), she let her carefully constructed guard down and found herself easily pulled in by Alice's infectious laugh and guileless manner.

"Your father sounds like he was wonderful," Alice said, settling into a comfortable chair and indicating that Bella should do the same.

Bella sat carefully on the other upholstered chair, looking a little nervous.

"Relax, Bella," said Alice with a little laugh. "Mrs. Mallory can't see you!"

Bella laughed too. "Well, alright. But if she comes marching in here and throws me out on the street you'll have to offer me a position in London."

"Done," said Alice with a twinkle in her eye but with a serious undertone.

"Yes, my father really was someone special," said Bella, picking up their conversation from before. "I miss him terribly."

Her eyes watered momentarily, then she looked up at Alice. "Tell me about your parents. They seem like such lovely people."

"They really are!" said Alice with enthusiasm. "I've never seen two people more in love than they – even after nearly thirty years! Jasper and I aspire to a love as enduring as theirs," said Alice with a romantic sigh, laying her head dramatically on the arm of her chair. "The way my father looks at my mother – still! It's so lovely."

Alice continued, telling Bella about how her parent's romance had inspired her to accept nothing less than true love in her own life and how she had rejected three previous offers of marriage before she met Jasper.

"How could I spend my life with someone who I didn't truly love with all of my heart?" she said with a shake of her head. Suddenly, her brow furrowed momentarily as she noticed Bella's weak smile.

_Alice!_ she suddenly chastised herself. _You're being so thoughtless! I don't know how she feels about Edward, but I can guess how he feels about her and this seems like it might be a tricky situation…_

"And you? Have you any special interests of the male variety?" Alice asked lightly.

Bella blushed. "No," she lied. "I haven't time for that, anyway."

"Oh really, one can always make time for that," Alice said teasingly.

Bella shook her head. "No. It would be lovely, but no."

"Well then perhaps there is someone who takes a special interest in you…?"

Bella gave small laugh. "I'm so sorry to disappoint you, Alice, but I have no knowledge of any such interest on anyone's part."

"Hmm. I wouldn't be so sure, my dear. You are lovely, and bright, and simply wonderful to talk to. I can imagine all sorts of men who would fall all over themselves for a chance at a walk down a lane or a dance at a party with you."

Bella laughed. "You really are sweet, Alice."

Alice's face grew almost serious. "Are you sure there's…no one? No one special at all?"

Bella looked uncomfortable for a moment and then shook her head.

"I really must be getting on…Mrs. Mallory will be wondering what is taking me so long," she said, standing.

Alice stood, too. "Mrs. Mallory, psh," she said with a wave of her hand, but she walked with Bella toward the door.

"Oh, wait!" Alice cried and she ran lightly back to her dressing table, returning with a small circular object wrapped in white paper.

"Here," said Alice, placing the disc in Bella's hand. "For you. Thank you for your help today," she said, giving her a quick hug.

Bella looked at the gift. The intricate folds of the paper molded to the shape of the object, upon which was affixed a label written in elegant French script. _Triple blanchi savon à la lavande_. Triple milled lavender soap.

She lifted the cake of soap to her nose and breathed in. "Ohhh, Alice! It's divine! Lavender is my favorite scent!"

"Good," said a satisfied Alice. "Enjoy it. Someone as darling as you deserves a little luxury."

Bella smiled at Alice. "Thank you," she said sincerely, and deposited the soap in her apron pocket.

Still smiling, she opened the door and stepped into the hall, waving a friendly goodbye to Alice who stood returning the smile in the doorway.

Mrs. Mallory was standing in the hallway, supervising the placement of a pastoral painting that was recently returned from being reframed. She turned in time to see the affectionate goodbyes between the new friends.

She shot a dark look at Bella whose smiled faded as she quickly retreated down the hall, then looked at Alice, who still stood in the doorway.

"Mrs. Mallory," Alice chirped brightly, nodding at the scowling woman and closing the door to the bedroom softly.

_Ridiculous_, thought Mrs. Mallory. _Just ridiculous._

**-xxx-**

Bella didn't expect Edward that evening. She knew that the farewell dinner would be attended by the occupants of several neighboring country estates and that dinner would be followed by cards, laughter, music and spirits late into the evening. She missed him, but managed to convince herself to lay down and go to sleep at an early hour. Once her head touched the pillow, sleep was not far behind. She was tired and staying up late so many evenings in a row was taking its toll.

Several hours into her slumber, Bella's eyes opened. She thought she heard something – no, all was silent. She sat up, straining her ears. Nothing. Then, a quiet shuffle outside her door and down the hallway.

Bella sprang up out of bed, not bothering to reach for her shawl, and opened the door. In the darkness she could just make out the retreating form of a man.

"Edward?" Bella whispered.

The form turned around swiftly and was inside her door, closing it shut before she could even process the act.

Edward looked at Bella. The moonlight streaming in the window highlighted his features almost as much as if a candle had been lit.

"I didn't think you'd come tonight," said Bella whispered, inches from him. "You have guests…"

"They've all left and I thought I'd see…no, of course, you were sleeping," he said, taking in her nightgown and long braid that hung over one shoulder. "Of course. How ridiculous of me. Pardon me."

But he made no move to leave.

"I just wanted to say goodnight," he said, and he swayed slightly. As his breath hit Bella's face it was clear that he had been indulging more than a bit in the drawing room with his guests. "I've gotten used to saying goodnight, Bella. So, goodnight. Goodnight, sweet Bella." His long fingers reached out and gently touched the side of her face, sliding down to trace her jawline to her chin.

Every thought Bella had left her head. She was aware of nothing but the sensation of his fingers trailing along her skin and how her entire body was responding to his touch. Her breath came harder and she subconsciously leaned toward him until she could feel the heat of his body radiating through her nightgown.

Hesitantly, Bella lifted her hand to Edward and placed it lightly at his waist and looked up into his eyes. Disappointment flooded through Bella as she saw Edward trying to keep his eyelids open and his head giving a quick bob forward as he fought sleep.

Bella shook her head. "Sir, I think you should sit down for a moment, and then go to bed."

"Of course. A marvelous idea. Fantastic," said Edward, and he fell heavily to the bed. He yawned hugely and then slowly, slowly began tipping over.

"Oh no, sir. No. You really can't sleep here," said Bella desperately, pulling him up by the arm. "You need to make it to your own bed. Please."

Edward shook his head as if to clear it. "No, no. Of course not." He made a move to stand and swayed again, grabbing Bella's shoulder for support.

Bella closed her eyes as she felt the electric thrill of his touch travel across her shoulder and up the back of her neck. _Oh for heaven's sake, Bella, he's drunk. He doesn't even know what he is doing, _she chided herself.

Still. The thrill remained as long as his hand stayed on her shoulder.

She took a deep breath. "Sir?"

"Hm? Yes? What?" said Edward, his eyes heavy.

"Sir, I think we need to get you to your room. Can we do that? Together?"

Edward nodded sleepily. "Good idea."

Bella had a little practice in this department. Once or twice a year, her father would have a few too many pints at the pub or glasses of whiskey at home and render himself incapable of making it to his bed alone. Bella would help steady him as he made his way down the hall to his bedroom, where he would collapse on the bed, snoring until morning.

It wasn't until Bella was older that she realized that these rare incidents usually coincided with her mother's birthday or the anniversary of their wedding. This discovery made Bella feel even more tenderness toward her father.

So, Bella let experience take over. She pulled Edward's long arm over her shoulders and put her arm around his waist, said a silent prayer that the house would be deserted and opened the door.

It took Bella five nervewracking minutes to pull and prod an increasingly drowsy Edward to his bedroom. When they reached his room and shut the door behind them, a relieved Bella propelled Edward to his bed, where he flopped down and almost immediately began snoring.

Bella exhaled. After a moment, she turned her attention to his boots, unlacing them and wresting them off. As she pulled off the second boot and placed it next to its mate under the bed, Edward woke for a moment. He reached his hand out and gently grasped Bella's forearm, the first part of her he could find.

"Sweet Bella," he said sleepily, "I wish it wasn't like this." Then he dropped back into slumber.

She stared at the snoring man. She knew what she wished his words meant, but he was drunk. She would take nothing at face value. She sighed, covered him with a blanket and returned to her room.

**-xxx-**

_The light. It's too bright. Someone blow out that candle…_

Edward groaned as he rolled over away from the piercing light. _Oh…it's from the window. It must be morning._

He lifted his arm to cover his eyes and as he did so he realized he was still wearing his dinner jacket…and his trousers and socks…

He furrowed his brow, trying to recall why he was sleeping attired thusly, and why his head was pounding so ferociously.

_I remember dinner with my family and the Atwoods and the Humphreys…and something…something…_

Suddenly it all came rushing back to him. Dinner – watching his cousins and their spouses share flirtatious smiles and affectionate teasing, noticing how Carlisle's hand found Esme's under the dinner table, how Emmett winked at his wife, how Alice leaned forward and gazed at Jasper whenever he spoke.

And then he remembered watching the Atwoods. Mr. and Mrs. Randolph Atwood had been married five years, had a lovely home and two gorgeous children. They were attractive people, charming and witty and polite – and utterly disinterested in each other. They followed all the social conventions and behaved properly toward each other but to anyone who watched them closely it was painfully clear. They were not in love. Perhaps there was an affection, a general regard each for the other, but no passion, no intimacy.

When this observation crystallized into conscious thought last night, Edward felt as though he had taken a blow to the chest. He was doomed to a marriage like the Atwoods', not like his cousins'. In an instant, he could see himself and Tanya in five years time, even one year's time, two people playing their parts, two solitary souls, never united, never connected beyond what had brought them together in the first place – family business, bank accounts and social standing.

Edward felt hollow, cheated, angry, defeated – all at once. And so he drank to numb himself to the feeling of despair that was swallowing him. He could count on one hand the times he had allowed himself to indulge beyond what was reasonable. This excessive consumption of alcohol felt justified.

His family noticed and tried to discreetly intervene, but he shrugged them off. Alice even tried to guide him to his bedroom after the guests had left and the fire was burning low but he insisted on being left alone. One by one, the Cullens retired to rest for their long journey in the morning. Alice stayed, encouraging Edward to talk, but he was so silently sullen that she eventually gave up and went to bed.

Edward was sitting up in bed now, the morning sun painfully streaming through the windows. Holding his head in his hands, he tried to sort through the thick haze that filled his head to remember what happened next.

Suddenly he froze: Bella. He went to see Bella.

"No…" he exhaled loudly, then winced at his own volume.

Teeth clenched, eyes closed, he carefully remembered what he could of his visit to Bella's room.

…"_sweet Bella"…touching her face...nearly falling asleep on her bed…her arm wrapped around his waist, his arm resting heavily on her slender shoulders…stumbling in the hall…collapsing on his own bed…"sweet Bella" again…_

He looked around the room. She brought him here, after he came, _drunk,_ to her room in the middle of the night. She must have taken off his boots, covered him with this blanket. He was mortified.

There was something else…what else did he say to her? Something about how he wished things were different, he thought, but he couldn't be sure. But he was fairly certain that he had grasped her arm before falling asleep.

_Edward. You fool. If you haven't scared her off it will be a miracle. You won't even have this last month or two to spend with her before an engagement to Tanya ends any sort of freedom you enjoy now._

He had no idea how he was going to handle this situation. All he knew right now was that he needed a drink of water and a fresh set of clothes so he could go out and properly bid his family goodbye.

What he would say to Bella was going to take some time to figure out. And he was in no position to think clearly right now.

**-xxx-**

"A lovely breakfast!" pronounced a satisfied Carlisle, leaning away from the table. "Please give Mrs. Cope my compliments," he said to the server standing quietly to the side.

The girl smiled. "I will, sir," she said, nodding her head and exiting the room with a tray.

The Cullens and Hales stood and began to drift off to their various last tasks before leaving: Alice to the kitchen to say goodbye to Mrs. Cope, then out to the garden to thank the gardener for the lovely flowers in her room and finally off to search out Bella. Rosemary and Esme went to their rooms to gather up any last belongings, with Emmett trailing behind Rose. Carlisle had a book he wanted to borrow from Edward's library. Finally, it was just Jasper and Edward sitting at the quiet table.

Edward toyed with the remains of a piece of bread while Jasper drained the last of his cup of tea.

He set cup down on the saucer and raised his calm eyes to Edward.

Edward sighed. "Yes, Jasper, I know. I went too far last night and everyone is worried about me. I understand. Don't worry. It won't happen again."

Jasper nodded his head slowly. "It's not the drink that everyone is worried about. Everyone has a little too much now and then. No, we're all just wondering what is happening. Something is different with you…you're preoccupied, you seem happier than we've ever seen you one moment, the next you seem…angry almost. We're all just confused. And concerned."

Edward looked startled, first, because that was perhaps the longest speech he had ever heard from Jasper, and second, because he didn't realize that his inner turmoil was so apparent.

Jasper waited patiently, tracing the rim of the teacup with his finger.

Edward rubbed a hand over his face. "It's…I just…I…"

He tried again. "It's difficult, Jasper. I'm…"

_I'm in love with a housemaid but have to marry someone else,_ he thought bitterly

He stood up abruptly. "I appreciate your concern. I really do, but this isn't something I can discuss. I'm sorry, Jasper."

And he left the room.

Jasper sat quietly for a moment, alone in the breakfast room.

_So_, he thought. _Alice was right_.

**FINALLY! A teeny bit of B+E contact! More to come, promise!**

**Another chapter, sooner than expected. Hope you guys don't mind... :)**

**I guess I lied about the Flickr photo set. It's not ready yet but will be by the time I publish the next chapter. Promise. **


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

The Cullen's departure left the house quiet again. Though there were extra linens to wash and guest bedrooms to return to order, there was a markedly more relaxed atmosphere among the staff. The noon meal lasted a few minutes longer, the scullery maid laughed a little bit louder at a bawdy joke told by a stable hand and even Mrs. Mallory looked the other way when Mrs. Cope served cake to the staff – an unexpected treat.

The holiday feel was infectious and Bella found herself singing along with Lizzie as they carried down comforters outside to be aired on the lines.

_Where have you been all the day,  
my boy Willie?  
Where have you been all the day,  
Willie, won't you tell me now?  
I have been all the day  
Courtin' of a lady gay.  
But she is too young to be  
Taken from her mother. _

_Is she fit to be a wife?  
my boy Willie.  
Is she fit to be a wife,  
Willie won't you tell me now?  
She's as fit to be a wife  
As a fork fits to a knife,  
But she is too young to be  
Taken from her mother._

But at the back of mind a series of questions ran constantly: _Will he come tonight? What will he say? What did last night mean? Does he even remember it? Has he recovered from his evening's indulgences or does he have a pounding headache like Father always had the next day?_ She was more than a little embarrassed when she found herself daydreaming about his head resting in her lap, stroking his temples to ease the ache. She was embarrassed – but found she could not stop imagining it nonetheless.

By the time evening came, she found herself so worked up over the thought of seeing Edward that she couldn't face her customary hour or two in the kitchen with Mrs. Cope and Lizzie. She knew she would be distracted and nervous and the thought of deflecting the well-meaning queries that were sure to come was too much to handle. Feigning exhaustion and a headache, Bella headed to bed earlier than normal.

For three hours, Bella lay curled up on her bed, fully clothed, alternating between replaying last night's events and falling into a restless sleep, all the while waiting and listening for the noises of the staff to recede and for the familiar soft knock at the door.

At midnight, Bella woke with a start from a brief sleep. She sat up and waited – there it was, the quiet knock she had been anticipating.

She pulled her shawl tight around her, noticing how cold the room had grown, and opened the door.

Edward stood in the doorway, holding a large lump in his hands, looking uncertain.

"May I come in?" he whispered.

Bella nodded and he entered.

For a moment the two stood uncomfortably.

"How do you feel, sir?" Bella asked softly, looking into his eyes.

It took Edward a moment to realize she was asking about his physical and not his mental state. If he had answered the latter, he would have had to confess he felt embarrassed, nervous and unjustifiably giddy all at once. But he quickly understood that she was concerned for his health and answered accordingly.

"Well, I have had better mornings but I feel very much recovered now," he said ruefully.

Bella smiled. "I'm glad."

Edward took a breath and looked at Bella full in the face.

"I need to apologize for last night. I…overindulged….and it was inexcusable for me to come to you in that state. I am embarrassed and I promise you that nothing of that sort will ever, ever happen again. You have my word."

His eyes looked pleadingly at Bella, imploring her to forgive his trespass.

She smiled. "Of course I forgive you, sir," she said simply, and took her customary seat on her bed. "It's forgotten."

But of course it would never be. Bella had already realized that if she lived to be one hundred, she would never forget the day that Lord Edward Masen had touched her face and called her sweet Bella. Her heart ached when she realized that in all likelihood, the only time she would ever be touched by him was when he was drunk and not in full control of his faculties, when he was confused and lonely. But for right now, she would carefully file that memory away with the others she cherished, like sharing the picnic on the rock or any number of nights they got lost in conversation, forgetting that she was the servant and he the master.

Edward stood still, debating whether to sit in his chair or leave her for the evening. After a moment, he made a choice.

"I won't stay tonight. You need your rest."_ And I need to let you know you can trust me, that I won't be grabbing at you again._

Bella's face clouded with disappointment as she made a movement to stand.

"No, please, don't get up," he said, extending his arm as if to stay her. "I've brought you something," and he handed her the lump that was in his hand.

Bella reached up and received the softest, finest wool blanket she had ever held in her two hands. It was scarlet red and knotted with fringe at the ends. She ran her hands over the gorgeous weave and looked up questioningly.

"It's turned quite cold today," he said by way of explanation. "This room gets so chilly."

He paused.

"It was my mother's," he added.

Bella looked startled.

"She would have liked you," he said, softly. "This is for you to keep. It's yours."

Bella opened her mouth but no sound came out.

Edward moved to the door.

"I apologize again, Bella." And he closed the door.

Bella sat on the bed with the red blanket in her lap, fingering the tassels. She was overwhelmed at the sentiment associated with the gift. Slowly, she unfolded the blanket and wrapped herself in its warmth, sitting on the bed like that for a long time before she finally put herself to bed.

**-xxx-**

Over the next week, Bella and Edward's nighttime routine eased back into normalcy. As soon as the house was quiet, usually around 10 p.m., Edward would slip up the stairs and into Bella's room. Sometimes he brought a slice of cake from the kitchen pantry, sometimes his chessboard or a deck of cards, and nearly always a book.

One evening he brought a thick book with color plates depicting Italian renaissance art and architecture.

"I bought it two years ago while visiting the Uffizi Gallery in Florence," Edward said, watching from his wooden chair as Bella reverently turned each page, drinking in the reproductions of the works of Botticelli, Titian, da Vinci and Michelangelo.

"It's just so…" Bella was at a loss for words. "I've never seen anything so glorious." She lifted her head to look at him. "What is it like to see these masterpieces?" she asked.

Edward considered his words before speaking. "It's like sitting down to the most sumptuous and exquisite feast imaginable. Every dish seems better than the last and you can't imagine how any mortal could create such perfection."

Bella was quiet for a minute. "I'm going to go someday," she whispered, almost a confession. "I'm going to see the Duomo in Florence and the Uffizi Gallery for myself. I'm going to Venice and going to take a gondola ride and feed the birds in San Marco Piazza. I'm going to visit Rome and walk through St. Peter's Basilica and see the Colosseum and the Pantheon. I may be old and gray before I get there, but I will get there."

"I'm sure you will," Edward replied quietly.

Bella turned another page, studying it, and then looked up again. "Did you know Raphael is buried in the Pantheon and that his fiancée is buried next to him? She died before they could marry."

Edward shook his head. "There's a lot in this world I don't know."

He looked up at the small print of San Marco Piazza that hung on Bella's wall.

"I've always been curious about this. Where did you get it?" he asked.

"Oh…well, I committed a nearly criminal act to get that," Bella said, looking slightly abashed.

Edward raised his eyebrows, intrigued.

"It's not really as bad as all that," Bella said, hastily. "It- it was in a book that belonged to my father. I cut it out right before I left my home and came here. I had to leave the library with the house but I had to take something…a memento."

Bella's eyes brightened suddenly with tears and she swallowed hard and lowered her head again to the book.

"Tell me about leaving your home," Edward said quietly. "About your father."

Bella's head didn't move.

"Sometimes it helps to share the hurt," he whispered, leaning forward, his forearms resting on his knees, hands clasped.

Bella still didn't look up. But after a moment, she began to speak. She told him of how her father worried that she had no mama to sew her pretty dresses or put the right ribbon in her hair. How he was a man of few words but that he read to her every night at bedtime and how he never objected if she brought a book to the table at mealtimes. She told him of the walks they would take on summer evenings and of their Sunday afternoon picnics. She told him of Christmas Eve and how he always brought a small tree into their home that she would decorate with paper stars and the chocolate she always found on her plate at Christmas dinner.

Then she told him of how she came home one day from visiting with Angela to find her father asleep in his favorite chair, a book open in his lap. Only he wouldn't wake up. She told him how she shook when she touched his hand and found it cold, how she screamed or maybe she didn't, she never could remember. How she sat on the floor at his feet for hours, silent tears streaming down her face until she finally rose, covered her father with a blanket and walked the short distance to Angela's house to tell the Webbers what she had found.

She related the horror she felt when she realized that her cousin, Michael Newton, would take possession of the house and the repulsion at his offer of marriage. She told of the numbness she felt when walked out of her home for the last time, her small black case carrying the few possessions she dared to take from the home.

Finally Bella stopped. She looked up at Edward who was still leaning forward, watching her intently.

"So that's how I came here," she ended.

Edward was silent. Then he spoke.

"I'm so sorry. I…I understand. I miss my parents, too," he said.

For a long minute, the two pairs of eyes were locked on each other, understanding passing between them.

Bella suddenly looked away and sniffed, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiping her nose. She looked at Edward who was still watching her closely and she gave a short embarrassed laugh. Edward smiled, too, and looked away.

She returned her attention to the book and after a few minutes she held the open book up for Edward to see.

"This painting…it reminds me of my mother," she said with a small wondering smile.

Edward looked. It was Madonna in Sorrow by Giovanni Battista Salvi da Sassoferrato. It was Mary, cloaked in a dark robe, crimson sleeves showing, hands clasped in front of her breast. But it was the look on her face that drew in Edward, the look of serene grief.

"It's mostly her eyes," said Bella, as she turned the book back to herself. "My mother had eyes like that. I think."

"How old were you when she died?" asked Edward quietly.

"Six," she answered. "She was to have another child - my sister - and something went wrong. They say it was quick, that they both died within a few minutes but I don't know. I wasn't there. I was at Angela's house and her mother was at mine, helping birth the baby…or trying to help."

She shrugged. "Sometimes I feel bad that I don't miss her more. But I was just a child. Most of my memories are of my father."

"But I do have a few memories. If I even smell baking apples, I am five years old again," she said with a smile. "Warm baked apples, with honey and cream poured on top..." Bella's voice trailed off.

"It's the clearest memory I have of my mother," she said quietly, her voice almost a whisper.

She stared at her knees, drawn up to her chest with her hands clasped around them. The book was now on the bed at her side.

"Go on," prompted Edward softly. He watched her as her head dropped to her knees.

In a muffled voice she quietly said, "I remember her serving them to us, in our little kitchen..."

She stopped and took a breath, face still in her knees.

"She was so beautiful...and I know she loved us. She loved me."

Bella's voice broke on the last words and a sob worked its way up from deep in her chest and threatened to erupt, but Bella breathed deeply, fighting it.

Edward could no longer sit, an island in that chair. In an instant he was at her side on the bed, gathering her in his arms, crushing her body to his chest.

Bella felt simultaneous pleasure and pain, the thrill of being in Edward's arms, finally, mingled with the deep sorrow of being a motherless child. "I'm sorry, sir," she whispered, burrowing her head further into his arms and clutching his shirt in her fists. "I'm sorry...I'll be alright."

Edward's voice was low in her ear, warm breath tickling into her hair.

"Don't say that," he said quietly. "Don't call me sir. Right now, I am just Edward, just a friend. A friend who understands what it is to lose a mother and a father."

With that, the dam broke. The sob that hovered at the top of her chest found voice and Bella began to cry. She cried for her mother, who she knew she loved but could scarcely remember. She cried for the loss of her father, for his companionship and faith in her. She cried because she was exhausted from her days of manual labor and because she missed Angela and because she was afraid she would soon lose Lizzie, too, and that she would again be alone.

But mostly she cried because she at once knew that she was irrevocably in love with Edward Masen and that he would not, could not, ever love her back in the way she so desperately craved.

Some time later Bella's crying subsided and she began to doze in Edward's arms, her fists relaxing their grip on his shirt. Edward's eyes were wide open. As her breathing slowed and regulated, he stared at the sampler on the wall opposite him.

"Hear the instruction of the father and forsake not the law of thy mother." It was a passage from Proverbs. Stitched carefully below the verse were the words "Isabella Marie Swan 1864."

He thought of nine-year-old Bella, head bowed over her work, brow furrowed with concentration. He thought of her trying so hard to make the stitches correctly, with no mother to gently guide her through her mistakes. He thought of her now, with no family to call her own, no home but this small room. His hand slowly slid up her back and found a lock of smooth chestnut hair and as he began to stroke it, he felt Bella's breathing change minutely...she was aware.

He could not. He wanted to, badly. He wanted to hold her in his arms all night, to brush away the pain and hurt, to feel her warm body curled against his, to be her refuge, her safety.

But he knew that the closer they were now, the more it would hurt when they were separated.

And so he gently distentangled himself from her, encouraged her to lie down, covered her small body with the red wool coverlet and quietly left the room.

**-xxx-**

THWACK! Thwack! THWACK! Thwack!

The rhythmic sound of wicker rug beaters on carpet was almost meditative to Bella as she and Lizzie alternated hits on the rug that was hung over the line between two large oak trees behind the house.

Or rather, would have been meditative were it not for the choking clouds of dust that swirled around Bella and Lizzie with each strike. It coated their white caps and aprons, giving them a dingy gray appearance and settled on the backs of their necks, their hair and the creases of their eyelids. Bella's neck and back ached from hours of beating rug after rug but her hands were the most painful. A morning of scrubbing the marble floor in the entrance hall had left the skin on her hands fragile and vulnerable, and an afternoon of beating rugs had given her blisters that by now had ripped open, exposing the raw, stinging flesh below. Lizzie had wrapped rags around Bella's hands, which had helped, but she still winced every time she gripped the handle of the rug beater.

But they were nearly done with their last rug. She could endure.

As the final blows were landed on the rug, Lizzie looked behind Bella and furrowed her brow.

"Janet is coming this way," she said. "I wonder why."

Bella turned to see the older housemaid hurrying out from the back entrance of Wrenfield Hall and over to where they stood.

She arrived breathless.

"Mr. James is here," she wheezed. "He's just arrived. Bring that rug in as soon as you are able and change your aprons and caps."

She picked up her skirts and rushed back to the house.

Lizzie looked annoyed. "He never tells anyone when he is coming, just shows up and expects that everyone will be prepared for his arrival. Poor Mrs. Cope. She's probably frantic now to come up with a suitable welcome dinner in an hour."

She clucked her tongue in disapproval as she and Bella hoisted the carpet off of the line and strained their muscles carrying it back to the great house.

Thirty minutes later, the rug had been replaced in the library and Bella's face was freshly scrubbed, her hair combed and put up again and she was wearing a clean apron and cap.

As she walked into the staff dining room, Mrs. Mallory's head snapped up from the list she held in her hand.

"You," she called to Bella. "Bring fresh towels to Mr. James room, now, and draw him a bath."

Bella looked startled.

"Yes, yes, I know the valet would normally do that but he's off today and we weren't expecting Mr. James, as you know. Just draw the bath and leave the stack of towels next to the bathing tub."

A few minutes later, Bella knocked on James Masen's door. Hearing no answer, Bella let herself in.

At the exact moment that she walked in, Mr. Masen also entered the room, coming from the bathroom. His shirt was untucked and unbuttoned and he stopped short when he saw Bella.

"Hello," he said, a slow smile spreading over his handsome face. He looked at Bella, his eyes taking in every inch of her.

"Sir," she said, curtseying quickly. She felt heat rise up her neck and into her face as he stood, continuing to look at her appraisingly.

She bit her lip slightly, then made a movement toward the bathroom. "I've come to draw your bath," she said, uncertainly.

"By all means," said James, bowing slightly and sweeping his arm toward the open door. But he didn't move from his spot, forcing Bella had to brush past him on her way through the door.

Bella's hands shook slightly and her heart beat faster as she fumbled with the taps. Running water was still enough of a novelty that Bella wasn't completely familiar with the system and she took a few moments to adjust the water temperature.

James stood just outside the doorway, watching Bella. After a few minutes, he removed his shirt and lay it over the back of a chair. Bella studied the tile on the wall behind the bathing tub, willing the tub to fill faster.

"What is your name?" James finally asked. Bella turned to see him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed against his finely sculpted bare chest.

"Bella," she said, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes looking everywhere but at him.

"Welcome to Wrenfield Hall, Bella," said James in a voice that nearly made Bella shiver. "You are new?" he asked.

"Yes. I mean, I've been here a little over two months, so…yes, new."

"And how do you like it?" he asked. His voice was smooth, like his brother's, but instead of sounding warm, like velvet, his was more like a cold, slippery satin.

"It's beautiful," she replied, now looking at a painting over James' right shoulder. "It's a lovely home."

"Well then, you should see the London house," he said with a grin. "It's very nice."

Bella nodded and noticed with relief that the tub was sufficiently full. She turned her attention to the taps and as quickly as she could, headed for the door to leave.

But James' body was blocking the doorway.

"Is there anything else I can get you?" Bella asked, standing in front of James.

James shook his head lazily and slowly moved out of her way.

"Thank you so much for the bath, Bella," he said, watching her as she neared the door.

She turned and curtseyed. "Sir." And she left the room.

In the hall, Bella walked as quickly away from James' room as she was able. Her heart was still beating fast and she couldn't shake the chill she felt. He had done nothing inappropriate, said nothing inappropriate. But still…

As she quickly rounded a corner, she almost walked straight into a man who was approaching from the opposite direction.

"Edward!" she exclaimed, then blushed and quickly corrected herself. "Pardon me, Lord Masen."

Edward gave a short, quiet laugh. "Edward is fine," he said, smiling at her.

Embarrassed, Bella opened her mouth to apologize again, then just returned his smile.

"Where are you coming from?" he asked, suddenly concerned as he picked up on Bella's nervousness.

"Drawing a bath for your brother," she said with false brightness. No need for Edward to know that his brother had made her heart beat faster in the worst possible way.

A dark look crossed over Edward's face. "Yes, I've heard he is here. I am on my way to see him now - I was out when he arrived."

He looked closely at Bella. "Are you alright?" he asked.

"Of course," said Bella forcing a smile.

Edward did not look convinced. But he nodded. "I don't know about tonight," he said, quietly. "I may be…visiting…with my brother."

"You should spend time with your brother," said Bella, encouragingly, masking her disappointment. "Family is important."

Edward sighed heavily. "I'll see you soon."

Bella smiled and curtsied. Edward bowed slightly.

And they continued in their opposite directions.

**Finally! I feel like it's been forever since I posted a chapter but I guess it's only been about a week. Still - I'm happy to be putting this chapter up. I had a bit of writer's block for a few days but then the dam burst. **

**Big, big thanks to my husband (who now knows the deep, dark secret that his wife is writing Twilight fanfic and who was unbelievably supportive - who knew?). He has let me ramble through the ideas in my head and even offered a few really good suggestions of his own. Also, thanks, dear, for the advice on legal terms and concepts. It's nice to have an attorney on staff here at the house. :)**

**Also: the flickr page is up. It's flickr(dot)com/wrenfieldhall. I have pictures there of locales and obects that inspired/enhance this story. Be sure to check out the favorites section. There are some super great photos there, including pictures of some amazing libraries, country houses and the English countryside.**

**One last thing - one alert reader pointed me in the direction of a new British TV series called Downton Abbey which I am now obsessed with, after only seeing the trailer on YouTube! Check it out, seriously. The time period is off by about 35 years but still, the feel, the sets, the house, the costumes are all AMAZING. Here's to hoping I can figure out how to watch the series on the internet.**

**THANK YOU for all of the reviews and messages. I don't know why they help so much, but they do.**


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Chapter Eleven**

Edward rapped sharply on his brother's door and then pushed it open without waiting for an invitation.

James turned around from the open wardrobe where he was selecting a shirt. An easy smile spread over his face.

"Brother!" he called out jovially. "And how are you?" he queried, crossing the room and clapping him loudly on the shoulder.

"I didn't expect you," said Edward tightly. "Why don't you ever let us know when we'll have the pleasure of your company?"

"Ah, Edward," said James, shaking his head and feigning a disappointed look. "Don't be that way! I thought we could have some fun, do a little hunting! Play some cards! Drink a little too much! I know the country doesn't have quite the society that London has but we could probably scare up a little party, don't you think?"

Edward looked evenly at him. "What do you want, James?"

"Can't a brother just visit without all the suspicion?"

Edward stared silently.

James suddenly dropped the smile and his eyes grew hard. "Fine. You want to get right to it? When will you ask Tanya to marry you?"

He crossed his arms across his still bare chest, his muscles contracting.

Edward said nothing.

"Edward? Come on, brother, this is going on too long," James said, reverting back to his carefully crafted lightheartedness. "If we don't move quickly, Tanya's father is going to think we're not serious about our commitment to his family and he won't advance us the money we need to keep us solvent until the silk arrives from the Orient and the factory is up and running. Aeronautical balloons are being used more and more, Edward, and with Mr. Winters connections, the government contract is guaranteed. We just need to be patient and to work with Mr. Winters."

"There is no 'we' in this," Edward shot back. "This is all yours, James. Your mess, your deal. You've just drawn me into it. Once again I fail to see why it's necessary for _me_ to marry Tanya for this all to come off properly. She's beautiful, just your type. Marry her yourself."

"Yes, well, dear brother, she has had her eye on you for quite some time now, hasn't she? And a happy Miss Winters is a happy Father Winters, and a happy Father Winters is so much more generous. And you know I'm not anywhere ready to settle down! I've got a lot of living left to do before I commit to anyone, even someone as lovely as our dear Tanya."

James cocked his head and gave Edward a patronizing smile. "And really, Edward," he said mockingly, reaching his hand out to touch his brother's face, "you two will make _such_ lovely children."

Edward's hand flew up blindingly fast, jerking his brother's hand from his face and holding his wrist in a vise-like grip.

The brothers stared at each other coldly.

"Don't ever touch me," Edward said icily.

Edward released his brother's wrist and breathed in deeply.

"And if I refuse?" he asked quietly.

James shook his head and sighed. "Don't force me, brother. Don't do it. I've been to my lawyer in London. You may still own all of what father left you by name, but Wrenfield Hall must be passed from father to oldest son - intact."

"Yes, in _fee tail male, _as it has been for the last two hundred years. I understand the terms, James," said Edward tersely.

"The important thing is there is nothing you can do about it," James continued. "That's how father explained it to me years ago, when _I_ thought it was so unfair. But, as you know, now there is some…confusion…shall we say, about who is his oldest son."

James stared at his brother. Edward back.

"But you know me!" said James. "I'm a fair man. Do as I say and you get to keep your name, our mother's honor is preserved and you stay on at your beloved Wrenfield Hall, riding around all day, looking at your trees or fish ponds or whatever it is you do. It's fairly simple. I'm not really asking all that much in return."

Edward pressed his lips together and turned to leave.

"Edward," James called out casually as Edward approached the door. "Can I ask why the objection now? You didn't have such a problem with this before."

Edward turned back and shook his head. "Nothing has changed," he said carefully. "I just don't like being controlled."

James studied him closely. "Really?"

Edward looked back at his brother and suddenly wrinkled his brow disapprovingly.

"I hope you have the decency to keep yourself clothed when the staff is around," he said, indicating his shirtless torso, as if something had just occurred to him.

James shrugged lightly. "In my experience there haven't been too many complaints about my attire from the maids." He smiled and raised his eyebrows suggestively at Edward.

_Disgusting_, thought Edward, and he turned his back and left.

**-xxx-**

Bella could hardly concentrate during the evening meal. The blisters on her hands stung, her neck and shoulders ached, the dust from beating the carpets that had settled on her clothes and body made her feel grimy and uncomfortable. She had determined to take a real bath in the servants' downstairs bathing room and she was anxious to finish her evening chores, get on with bathing and collapse into bed.

She was hardly paying attention to the chatter around her when she heard Lord Masen mentioned. Suddenly her hearing grew focused on the conversation across from her.

"Well, I don't know, exactly," said Lizzie, who was speaking quietly to Kate, the scullery maid who was taking in all of Lizzie's information eagerly. "I know they used to be great friends when they were boys, but I hear that over the last few years Mr. James and Lord Masen have really grown apart. I understand that Mr. James is, well, quite _active_, socially, if you understand my meaning, and Lord Masen disapproves."

"Mr. James is so handsome," said Kate, excitedly, her bright blue eyes wide. "I saw him the last time he was here and I nearly fell over – he looked right at me and smiled, he did. I don't know what problem Lord Masen has with his brother, but I think I could easily forgive him most anything!" she giggled.

Lizzie tsked. "He _is_ handsome, Kate, but I don't know. If Lord Masen doesn't get on with him, I'd be inclined to think the problem lies with Mr. James and not the other way 'round. Wouldn't you think, Bella?"

Bella shrugged noncommittally and put a piece of bread in her mouth to avoid more conversation on the subject.

"Didn't you bring towels to his room and draw him a bath, Bella?" asked Kate. "I thought I heard Mrs. Mallory speaking to you when I was passing the dining room earlier."

"Mm-hmm." Bella was grateful that the bread stuffed in her mouth prevented further comment.

"Did you see him?" pressed Kate. "Is he as handsome as I remember? Did he speak to you?" Kate leaned forward across the table, chin in hands.

Bella took her time chewing, swallowing slowly.

"Um, yes. He asked my name, how long I had been here. That's about it," she said.

Kate sighed dramatically. "I wish I weren't stuck down here with the dishes all day! I can't wait until Mrs. Cope decides I'm ready to serve at table. Then I'll get a good look at everyone, instead of just hearing all about everything second hand!"

Bella smiled at Kate and broke off another piece of bread, tuning out their conversation as it shifted to the planned dinner Lizzie was to have with Bobby Long's family next weekend.

_He's hardly ever mentioned his brother,_ she thought._ It never occurred to me there was bad blood there._

With that thought, Bella finished her meal and rose to finish her evening chores.

**-xxx-**

Bella sighed as she lowered herself into the deep tub. The hot water swirled around her luxuriously and she leaned her head back onto the edge of the tub. Staff members were allowed one hot bath a week, and luckily for Bella no one had requested this particular evening. She usually bathed on her day off but tonight the bath felt more than necessary.

Lying in the steaming water, her chin barely touching the surface, her hair swirling around her shoulders, she looked critically at her body. Her legs were slender and well shaped, her hips slim, her chest nothing to be ashamed of. An image of Lord Edward Masen danced at the edge of her thoughts…

Quickly she sat up, sloshing water out of the tub and on to the floor. Her cheeks burned in private embarrassment…and excitement.

She covered her face in her hands for a moment, then reached out of the tub to pick up the unwrapped cake of soap Alice had given her. Quickly she scrubbed her body and hair with the perfumed cake, rinsing out every last bit of dust and grime until she was red and shining. She stepped out of the tub, dried, dressed and returned to her room.

Alone in her room she changed into a clean nightdress and wrapped fresh bandages around her blisters. They would heal soon, but in the meantime, they stung and the bandages minimized the hurt.

Bella hadn't been settled in her bed for more than a minute when she heard a knock at the door.

_Really?_ she thought, blushing as her heart thumped quietly. She quickly rose, wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and opened the door.

Bella's first thought was how unsettled Edward looked.

"Come in," she whispered, and unthinkingly reached out and pulled him into the room by his wrist.

"Oh, pardon me," said Bella, blushing again as she dropped his wrist and closed the door behind him. "I just…never mind. Please sit."

Edward looked at her and smiled slightly. She couldn't know much it thrilled him to be touched by her in such a casual manner. He wanted to take her in his arms again, like he had the night before, to wrap himself around her on her small bed and fall asleep, forgetting the whole wretched business of James' blackmail and marrying Tanya. He had never wanted anything so badly in his whole life.

He stood, uncertainly, inches from her, looking down at her. It would be so easy to reach out, put his hand on her waist, pull her close to him, to knot his fingers in her damp hair and angle her face up to his…

He drew in a breath. Bella stood, unmoving, in front of him.

_Touch me…please touch me…_

Suddenly Edward frowned.

"Bella, what is wrong with your hands?" he asked, a concerned look on his face, as he picked up one of her bandaged hands.

"Oh…just some blisters. They'll heal soon. It's nothing to worry about," she said dismissively.

Tenderly, he held her small wrist in one hand as he unwrapped the cloth.

Edward shook his head at the sight of her damaged hand. He slowly lowered it to her side.

"Sit down," he instructed. "I'll be right back."

He left the room and was back within minutes. Bella had situated herself on her bed, the red blanket covering her lap, her head leaning tiredly against the whitewashed wall.

He sat next to her on the bed and opened a small tin.

"It's a salve that Thomas' wife makes for me. Thomas' hands take quite a beating out there in the gardens all day and Mrs. Cope asked her to make some for me one day when she noticed my hands were chapped from fishing when it was too cold out. It's nearly miraculous."

Bella allowed him to carefully unwrap the second hand, aware every moment of his gentle touch, his sure fingers. Gently, he smoothed a dab of it on her broken skin, carefully massaging it into her palm. He took the other hand and repeated the action. He rewrapped the bandages, tucking in the loose ends securely. But when he finished his ministrations, he did not release her hands. Holding them loosely in his own, he leaned his head against the wall, mirroring Bella.

For a long minute, Bella and Edward stared at each other. Finally, Edward broke the silence.

"Bella…I…I want to say so many things to you," he whispered. "You've been such a good friend to me these last two months. Maybe the best friend I've ever had. I've never enjoyed someone's company as much as I have yours. I've looked forward to our evenings together more than anything…ever. In my whole life."

Edward felt desperate for Bella to understand him, to know just how much she meant to him. But another part of him felt cruel…if she felt anything close to what he was feeling, would it not be kinder to leave words unspoken? Would that not make the inevitable separation more bearable?

He didn't know. The line between right and wrong in this situation, in this small room that was quickly becoming his whole world, seemed blurred. He wanted Bella but he couldn't have her. He thought she wanted him too. But if he truly cared for her as much as he thought he did, shouldn't he keep his thoughts to himself? Shouldn't he make this easier for her, even as it tore him apart?

Edward closed his eyes and dropped his head forward, still holding her hands in his. Bella leaned her head closer until their foreheads touched. She squeezed her eyes shut. Whatever Edward was confessing, it was making her nervous. It sounded terrifyingly like it was leading up to a goodbye.

Slowly, she lifted her hand from his and placed it gently on the back of his neck. Her fingers curved delicately into the hollow at the base of his head and she began to stroke his hair with small movements.

A hot tear dropped from her eye onto Edward's hand. Startled, he opened his eyes and raised his hand to her face.

"No, no, no, Bella, don't," he pleaded softly. "Don't."

He cupped her face in his hand and pulled it up to face him. Another tear squeezed out of her eye and he caught it with his thumb, brushing it away.

Gently, he lay his cheek next to hers, staying still for some time. At the vague outer edges of his thoughts a warning sounded. _Stop, Edward, stop before a line is crossed, stop…_

But he didn't want to stop. Her nearness heightened every one of his senses, at the same time feeling more natural than he ever would have imagined. He breathed in her scent – lavender, just like her room.

Almost unconsciously he moved his lips to her cheekbone, kissing a light trail down until his mouth lay just above her lips. With the smallest movement, he took her upper lip in his. He went still, awaiting her response.

Bella reacted. With just the slightest hint of force, she pulled his head closer to her and barely parted her lips. The softness of the inside of his lips made contact with hers and her heart pounded, her head light with the sensation of his mouth against hers. For a few moments, their lips moved in gentle concert, hesitantly exploring, pulling back, then coming together with building fervor.

Edward's breath came shorter now, as he placed a hand at Bella's waist, pulling her closer to him. Bella rose slightly on her knees, winding her other hand around his neck and drawing herself further in towards his chest. Her lips moved a little faster on his and she gave a shiver when she felt the tip of his tongue reach out and hesitantly touch the smooth inside of her upper lip.

Bella gave a tiny moan and opened her mouth wider. Edward froze.

He drew in a shaky breath and shook his head.

"No…" he whispered. "I'm so sorry, Bella." He slid his hands from her waist to her shoulders, then up her arms, removing her arms from his neck, gently fighting her opposite pull.

Bella looked confused.

"It's just…I don't want to hurt you, Bella. And I'm not in a good position right now…I'm not entirely free to be making my own decisions."

Bella leaned back, away from Edward, her shoulders dropping slightly. Looking slightly stunned, she nodded, and began pulling the red blanket closer, protectively to her chest.

"No…please Bella…" he leaned forward and reclaimed her bandaged hand. He needed her to understand that he wasn't rejecting her of his own volition. "I want to…you have no idea how badly. But I can't." He raked his free hand through his wild hair, grasping a fistful.

The tortured look on his face wrenched Bella's heart. She lifted a hand to his and gently freed his tangled fingers, lowering his hand to rest in her lap.

"Can you stay with me? Just for a while?" Bella whispered. She had the impression that it was more than just their class difference that was stopping Edward, but she decided to ask more later. Tonight she just wanted to be near him. The thought of him walking out the door right now was more than she could bear.

Edward sighed and swiftly gathered her into his arms. He leaned against the wall with Bella on his chest, Elizabeth Masen's blanket cocooning them in warmth. With one hand he stroked her smooth hair, now nearly dry, the other holding her securely to him. Her hands and face rested on his broad chest as she listened to his heart's beat, calming the longer they sat.

Many thousands of words had been exchanged over the last two months, books had been read, ideas had been discussed, stories had been shared. But tonight, with so much left unsaid, Bella and Edward held onto each other, silent, into the night.

**-xxx-**

The morning sun filtered into Bella's room, waking her from her slumber. For a moment, she lay in a haze, yawning and rubbing her eyes. As she rolled over, preparing to step out of bed, she gave a start. Memories of the previous night came crashing back…the feel of her hands in his, his lips on her cheek and then on her lips, the lightheaded thrill when his strong hand found her waist and pulled her to him…

Suddenly, Bella broke into a huge grin. She sat up and wrapped her arms around her knees, still smiling.

But as she pulled herself out of bed, further reflection on the evening's events pushed the smile from her face. What did he mean when he said he was not free? Why did he stop the kiss? Despite the giddiness she felt when thinking of the closeness they shared last evening, worry and confusion hovered over her thoughts. By the time she arrived at the servant's dining hall for breakfast, her mind was clouded with doubt.

**-xxx-**

"James," said Edward, nodding as his brother walked into the breakfast room.

"Good morning," said James, smiling broadly, seating himself at the table where Edward sat in front of the remnants of his morning meal. "I'm sorry I retired so early last night and our cribbage match had to be postponed. I'd be happy to reschedule for this afternoon."

"Not at all," replied Edward. His evening had turned out much better than he had anticipated after his brother, tired from the trip from London, had succumbed to sleep.

"Before I forget," said James casually, watching as a server presented him with a plate of egg, ham and potato, "we'll be having guests tonight. I'm sorry I neglected to inform you."

He flashed a grin as he delivered a large forkful of egg to his mouth.

"Who is visiting?" Edward asked carefully.

"Mm – " he held up one finger as he chewed and swallowed. "I really can't believe it keeps slipping my mind to tell you. The prototype balloon craft was finished last week from the first shipment of silk we received this summer. It's being delivered tomorrow so we can do a test flight, right here at Wrenfield Hall! Lovely news, no?"

Edward turned to ice. "Who is coming?" he asked again, quietly.

"Oh well, Thatcher and Weeks from the factory, of course, and a French aeronaut – they're much more familiar with this technology – Commodore Armstrong from the Admiralty, and Mr. Winters. Oh, and Tanya."

James cut another piece of ham and deposited it in his mouth. "Should be rather exciting," he said through his full mouth.

He continued eating, looking up after a moment and frowning at his brother.

"What? I already told Mrs. Mallory, don't worry. The house and staff will be prepared. Nothing for you to concern yourself with except keeping Tanya and her father happy. I'll take care of the rest. Relax!"

Edward was still as a statue. Suddenly he stood.

"You should have told me," he said, and walked out of the room.

**-xxx-**

Bella entered the kitchen hesitantly. The bottle of vinegar in the maid's supply closet was empty and more was needed to deal with a streaky mirror in one of the guest rooms. But taking in the frantic scene before her, Bella wondered if it might be better to find another solution.

After a moment she caught Mrs. Cope's eye. The poor woman raised her frazzled face and motioned for Bella to enter.

"I'm so sorry, Mrs. Cope. Can I just have a cup of vinegar? Then I'll be out of your hair."

Mrs. Cope sighed. "Of course, dear. Third shelf in the pantry, to the left." She raised the back of her hand to wipe the sheen from her forehead.

"I just wish Mr. James would _tell_ us when we're expected to make a meal for important guests like Mr. Winters and the Commodore. It's just – well, it's not good for my nerves, for starts!" She gave a look that was a cross between a smile and extreme exasperation.

"Actually, dear, I'm glad you've stopped in. I was just about to send Kate to find you. Mrs. Mallory needs you to step in tonight and help serve at the welcome dinner. Emily twisted her wrist yesterday and can't carry so much as a teacup."

Bella looked alarmed. "Mrs. Cope, I don't know the first thing about serving at table. I mean, truly, I'm a terrible choice."

Mrs. Cope shook her head. "Ah, you'll be fine. Finish up your task and then come back down here. I'll give you a quick tutorial. You'll pick it up in no time."

She turned back to the circle of dough she was patting into a tart pan. Bella closed her eyes for a moment and then went in search of the vinegar.

**-xxx-**

Just as they had done previously when the Cullens arrived, the staff gathered at the great entrance of Wrenfield Hall to greet the carriages that rolled up the long drive. Bella stood straight and still, but she could not control the slight involuntary movement of her head when she saw Edward and James step out of the house and into the cold November afternoon.

Edward's eyes quickly flickered over to the row of servants, neatly standing at attention in their black and white attire. His eyes rested on Bella and for a moment, her eyes raised up to meet his, then dropped at the same time he looked away.

The first carriage rattled to a stop and several men stepped out. James greeted them enthusiastically and Edward cordially shook their hands. A moment later, a portly, mustachioed man heaved himself out of the second carriage, followed by a trim, gray-haired man in a uniform of the Royal Navy.

"Mr. Winters! So lovely to see you!" cried James, clasping the man's substantial hand in his own. "Welcome to Wrenfield Hall!"

"Commodore Armstrong, we're so very honored to have you here," he said respectfully to the uniformed man behind him. "I think you should expect to have a very fine time."

All eyes turned then to the carriage, from which its last passenger was exiting gracefully. A gown of fine peach-colored silk rustled appealingly as she stepped out, taking the hand of Edward Masen, who had approached the carriage and offered his assistance.

"Miss Winters," said Lord Masen in a gracious voice. "Welcome to Wrenfield Hall."

The woman with the mass of honey-colored curls piled on her head peeked up at Edward through her lashes and gave him a dazzling smile. "I've missed you, Edward," she said in a smooth voice. "I'm so thrilled to be here."

She accepted the offered arm and walked with Edward up the stairs and into the grand house, raising her head to his and whispering something in his ear as they went.

Standing in the staff line, Bella watched them go and felt the ground sway slightly beneath her.

**Hello and welcome to all of the new readers! I'm so happy you've found this story and I'm curious - how did you find it? I think a lot of you came from PicTease - am I right? Let me know. I haven't decided if I want to keep posting teaser photos (but I've found some good ones, so maybe...and a HUGE THANKS to chyygirl67 for pointing me in the direction of PicTease and helping me with the whole process.)**

**Thanks, also, to The Oldest One who has found me some good photos for the flickr page that I will be uploading soon, not to mention the thoughtful critique. Thanks, lady!**

**Further on the topic of "Where Did You Find This Story," how many of you came from Letters To Twilight? And if you don't know about Letters To Twilight, you should, especially if you love Twilight but have a sense of humor about the whole thing.**

**Biggest thanks to my dear husband who has, unbelievably, turned into my beta of sorts - and a good one at that. Several of the good ideas in this chapter came from him and there are more to come in the upcoming chapters. Husband as beta - who knew? It's a mad, mad, mad, mad fanfic world.**


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Chapter Twelve**

Bella stared at the complicated assemblage of soupspoons, butter plates, salt cellars, fish forks, bone dishes, sherry glasses, bread plates, demitasse cups – the table setting was astonishing.

"Bradford?" she called, in a panicked voice.

The butler came back around the corner, ruler in hand. He approached the table and began measuring the distance from each piece of cutlery to the edge of the table.

"I know, I know. It's overwhelming and I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nervous for you. But we'll go over it all again in a moment and, well, when in doubt, watch the other girls."

Bella raised a tired hand to her face, pressing on her closed eyes with her fingertips.

"Alright. Tell me again. The charger is removed after the soup but before the fish…?"

"Correct."

"And the bone dish is removed when the fish plate is removed."

"Always."

"We bring the finger bowls when the meal is completed."

Bradford straightened up from his measuring task. He gave Bella a smile and a quick nod.

"I've changed my opinion. I'm no longer nervous for you."

Bella breathed in deeply. "Well, that brings the total to one, then."

Minutes later, Bella and Bradford were joined by the two other girls who were to serve with them. Candles were lit, flowers adjusted, caps straightened and aprons smoothed.

Bella concentrated on remembering to serve from the left and clear from the right. Anything to take her mind off what she observed this afternoon.

_He was being gentlemanly,_ she told herself when thoughts crept in, unbidden._ They are clearly friends. And besides, Bella, you have no claim on him! One kiss, a few cryptic statements – really! Do you think you're the only housemaid ever to have become infatuated with the master of the house? Do you think that other gentlemen have never indulged a little with the help?_

But underneath her self-lecture, Bella could not deny the reality of his words_. Maybe the best friend I've ever had…I want to…you have no idea how badly_. She was certain he spoke the truth – because she could feel it.

The time for confusing introspection came to a sudden halt with the arrival of the dinner guests and their hosts.

Bella kept her face blank, facing forward as the door opened. A brief flash of adrenaline shot through her as Tanya Winters entered, resplendent in a frothy white chiffon dinner gown, a pale blue silk sash fastened around her narrow waist. Her upswept hair glowed in the candlelight and the scent of the hothouse flowers pinned in her hair wafted through the air.

She was on Edward's arm – again – laughing at some remark, eyes fastened adoringly on his face. Bella felt sick.

And then Edward saw her. His eyes flashed questioningly at her presence in the dining room, then, just as quickly, they returned to Tanya's face.

Outwardly, Bella was unchanged. But inside, a strange mixture of humiliation and resentment was beginning to brew.

With an effort, she pushed those feelings aside.

_Just make it through the dinner, Bella…_

Taking her cues from the other wait staff, she made it through the shrimp cocktail, the oyster soup and fish course without incident and without once looking directly at Edward.

But she was aware of him at every turn. She noticed how he tilted his head respectfully when the commodore spoke. She noticed how one drop of soup fell from his spoon to the tablecloth, that he left one shrimp uneaten in his crystal cocktail glass. How he laughed appropriately at Tanya's witty observations on a newly opened play she viewed in London last week, how his smile seemed tight and forced when she recounted a recent society wedding she had attended. How he never looked at anyone who was refilling his wine glass or discreetly sweeping crumbs off of the table with a silver brush and tray.

What she noticed most was that in _this_ room – in Edward's world – she barely exisited. She was little more than furniture, unnoticed but for its usefulness.

_It's not his fault_, she told herself, trying to calm her own emerging feelings of hurt. _What would you have him do, Bella? Stand in front of his guests and pledge his undying love to you? This is the reality that he lives in. Whatever happened last night clearly doesn't change a thing during the day._

By the meat course, the conversation had steered away from London society and the latest opera to a curious topic.

"Commodore Armstrong," said James, cutting a piece of venison and resting his wrists lightly on the table, fork and knife in hand. "I trust that you are looking forward to the balloon launch tomorrow? I can assure you that once you see this magnificent technology in action you will be as anxious for us to start serious production as we are."

"I am indeed very eager to see with my own eyes what I have only heard reports of," the commodore replied. "The French certainly used aeronautics to their advantage when Paris was under siege by the Prussians, and her majesty's navy is most interested in what applications there might be for our own national defense."

"As I've told you, Commodore, the Masen men are among the brightest and the best I know," said Mr. Winters, scraping up the last bit of gravy from his china plate and eyeing his daughter's unfinished portion. "They both take after their father in the best and yet unique ways. I'm confident you'll find them both quite pleasant to do business with."

"Well I can't speak to their business sense," said Tanya with a tinkling laugh, "but I can testify to Edward's diligence in keeping up with correspondence. He's been an absolute dear, writing me so faithfully when he's not in London. And he writes so beautifully, too – OH!"

Tanya gave a sharp exclamation, pushing back her chair and jumping up. She glared at Bella, who had been filling her water goblet.

Bella started as she realized that her shaking hands had spilled water onto the frilly sleeve of Tanya's gown.

"Oh! Ma'am, I'm ever so sorry!"

Bella quickly set down the crystal water pitcher and began dabbing at the wet sleeve with a small towel that had been tucked in her apron pocket.

Tanya swatted Bella's hand away.

"Don't! Just don't touch me, you'll only make it worse," said Tanya, sharply.

James half stood, examining the sleeve. "Well, thankfully it's only water, Tanya dear. It should dry."

Tanya slowly sat, trying to regain her composure. "Yes, of course you are right, James," she said, a thin smile on her face. She blotted her sleeve with her napkin for a moment, smoothed her dress and picked up her fork.

Bella stood, still in shock by what she had just done.

"I'm so very sorry…" she began again, but Tanya flicked her hand in Bella's direction as if to shoo off a pesky fly. Bella's cheeks burned as she retreated to the edge of the room and took her silent position next to the other servers. She stared straight ahead, trying not to notice that Edward was looking in her direction. The last thing she needed at this moment was to face his disapproval.

"Edward, I feel very sorry for you at this moment," Tanya said in a staged whisper. "I can only imagine how difficult it must be for you to get good help out here in the country! These people out here – oh! Really, you must let me look for some good people in London. We have access to much more competent servants in the city."

She looked at the dinner party and gave a dramatic shudder, smiling as if they were all sharing a joke.

Several of the men, including James and Mr. Winters, chuckled at Tanya's comments. "Right you are, my dear!" said Mr. Winters, looking at his daughter adoringly.

Edward did not seem amused.

"I am so very sorry for what happened here, Miss Winters," he said in a tight voice, "and if there is any damage to that lovely gown, you must let me make amends. But I do take issue with your assessment of Miss Swan. She has been a very fine employee here the last three months, despite this unfortunate accident."

His eyes traveled quickly from Tanya's shocked face to Bella's. For a fraction of a second their eyes met and he gave her the smallest of nods.

"Oh? Well, then, please pardon me, Edward…_Miss Swan_." Tanya's head turned to Bella, still standing still against the wall. She smiled a gracious smile at the young woman in the maid's uniform, but there was a hardness in her eyes that made Bella shiver.

"Of course, ma'am," Bella said in a voice barely above a whisper, bowing her head slightly.

For the remainder of the dinner Bella handled every dish like it was a newborn baby and was relieved when Bradford discreetly instructed another more experienced server to attend to Miss Winters exclusively.

By the time the coffee was served, Bella was drained. She had made it through the shaved ice with blackcurrant syrup, the salad with the hothouse greens and lemon vinaigrette, the towering molded almond cake with stewed pears and whipped cream, the stilton cheese and crackers, the roasted nuts and the crystallized dried fruit. She nearly cried with relief when the last of the coffee was drained from cups and the men retired to the drawing room for cigars and cognac, Tanya professing exhaustion and bidding them all good night.

An hour later, all elements of the dinner party cleaned and restored to their proper spots, Bella stumbled into her chilly room and crawled into bed as quickly as she could undress and clean her teeth and face. For a few brief moments she considered the events of the evening, and then her mind drifted back to the night before…Edward on her bed, his lips on hers, his hands at her waist. Willing the doubts, humiliations and confusion out of her head, she focused on the most comforting part of the night – his arms wrapped securely around her, the soothing beat of his heart, the warmth of his chest. With her mind deliberately centered on that memory, she fell into a sound sleep.

**-xxx-**

Sometime later, Bella woke. Her head was thick with sleep but she was vaguely aware of something…someone else was in the room with her, on the floor, right by her head.

Tentatively, her hand reached out and she was startled when her fingers met with a familiar mess of silky hair.

"Edward?" she whispered.

The head she was touching moved as he woke. He had been sitting on the floor by her bed, his head inches from hers, resting on the edge of her thin mattress.

"Bella…" His hand found hers in the darkness and held it against his cheek for a moment, then he turned to press her palm to his lips.

"I'm sorry about dinner," he said softly.

Bella nearly laughed. "You? You're sorry about dinner? You were a perfect gentleman, sir, defending a lady's honor – "

"Edward," he said.

"Pardon me?"

"No more sir. Call me Edward only."

Bella was glad he couldn't see the wide smile spreading across her face as she moved her head closer to the edge of the bed, closer to him.

"Very well, then, Edward," she whispered in his ear. "Thank you for your kind words in the face of my clumsiness."

"Not at all," he whispered back, his breath warming her cheek from the chill of the room.

He gave an involuntary shiver and she sat up, pulling the fine wool blanket from her body and draping it over his shoulders.

"No, Bella, you keep it. It's far too cold in here – I have a coat," and he tried to put the blanket back on her.

"Let's share," said Bella, so quietly Edward was not sure he had heard her correctly. But she moved close to the wall, making room on the narrow bed for him.

Edward hesitated – surely she could not mean –

"Over the quilt, Lord Masen," she said teasingly. "Just to keep us warm."

With that, Edward lay down gingerly next to Bella. He spread the red blanket over them both and carefully placed one hand on her quilt-covered waist, tucking the other under his head on a small portion of pillow.

Their foreheads touched and Bella gently raised her hand to his head, stroking his tousled hair. His eyes closed.

"It's very…complicated…for me right now, Bella," he whispered hesitantly. "I'm not really at liberty to explain it all right now, but I hope you can feel what I feel for you. I have some things I must sort out, but I hope that once I do, things might be different for us."

He ended with a fervor and determination that Bella hadn't heard from him before. Her heart ached for understanding, to know what was keeping them apart, and her body longed to be touched by him.

But she controlled herself, concentrating on breathing.

Edward shifted uncomfortably for a moment, then pulled out his pocket watch, detaching it from his pants pocket and setting it on the bedside table.

"Pardon me," he said apologetically, turning his body to hers again and repositioning his hand on her waist.

Bella smiled. "Not at all, sir…Edward," she corrected herself. Her hand resumed smoothing his hair as she tried with great difficulty to calm her body. His nearness was electrifying.

Edward sighed, a mixture of frustration and contentment. "Sleep, Bella. You must be exhausted."

For a long time the two lay close, touching chastely with nearly unbearable restraint. Eventually, sleep came.

**-xxx-**

Tanya lay stiffly in her enormous bed, staring at the shadowy silk canopy above her. Her mouth was pursed tightly and her hands clasped across her chest.

No matter how many times she recounted the events of the dinner, she could not make sense of them. Edward defending a maid who had spilled something on her, Tanya Winters? The look that passed between the two of them – it was all so unbelievable. Perhaps she had misunderstood Edward all along. Perhaps Edward was more like his insufferable cousin Alice than she realized, Alice with all of her liberal attitudes toward the help, all of her inappropriately friendly conversations with scullery maids and footmen and beggars on the street. She nearly snorted in the darkness.

Yes, that must be it, she decided. Edward simply has a soft spot for the downtrodden. Ah, well, she thought as she flounced over and adjusted the soft bedclothes. He couldn't be perfect in every way.

**-xxx-**

_Knock, knock!_

"Breakfast in fifteen minutes!" called Mrs. Mallory sharply, continuing down the hall at a rapid clip, stopping to knock at the next door.

Bella and Edward both raised their heads from the pillow at the same moment, their eyes flying open. During the night, their bodies had moved closer with arms wrapped about each other, chests pressed tightly.

In the early morning darkness Bella could not see Edward well but she could feel his finger pressed to her lips, indicating she should be silent. He sat up, swung his legs over the edge of the small bed and reached over to light the lamp at the bedside. A soft glow filled the room and Edward turned to look at Bella who was now upright. Blinking sleepily, Bella smiled as she tried to smooth her braided hair and adjust her nightgown.

Edward nearly dropped to one knee right then and begged her to elope with him. She was so beautiful, so precious to him – they could go to Italy, to America, anywhere, he didn't care. He just knew that he didn't want this to be the last time he ever saw her in the morning.

"Bella…" he whispered, and leaned toward her, kissing her on her cheek and breathing in her scent before he pulled back reluctantly.

"Thank you," she mouthed silently.

For several seconds they looked into each other's eyes until Bella reached out and took Edward's hand in hers, bringing it to her mouth and kissing the back of it. She sighed and climbed out of the bed as Edward held her hand.

"I have to dress," she whispered, quickly making her bed.

Edward looked alarmed. "I can't leave right now," he whispered. The sounds of the staff were beginning to come through the walls as the house woke up for the day.

"I know," Bella replied, her voice barely audible. She put her hands on his back and propelled him to the corner of the room, facing the wall. "Don't turn around."

Edward stood, eyes fixed on the wall, nostrils flaring as he chewed on the inside of his cheek. _You are a gentleman, you are a gentleman, you are a gentleman…_

The few minutes passed excruciatingly slow as Edward heard every rustle and soft swish as clothing was removed and donned. He concentrated very hard on keeping his mind blank.

Then he felt a soft touch at his elbow.

He turned to see Bella fully dressed in her black dress and white apron. Her hair hung dark and loose and while he watched she brushed it with long strokes then pinned it up swiftly. Her white cap was set in place and after a quick glance in her cracked mirror, she turned to face him.

She fought a smile as she watched him look over every inch of her as if he was seeing her for the first time. Suddenly, she fixed him with a saucy look and gave a little curtsey.

Edward's heart rate sped up as he bit his lower lip and took one step toward her.

Bella shook her head.

"I have to go," she whispered.

Edward nodded mutely and watched as she opened the door a crack and slipped out.

He waited until all was silent and then quickly exited the room, hurrying down the corridor and breathing a sigh of relief when he neared his room.

His hand was on his doorknob when he heard a low chuckle. He whipped around and saw James, leaning against the doorjamb of his own room, across the hall and two doors down.

"I wondered when both you and Tanya retired early last night," said James, eyeing Edward's rumpled dinner jacket and his hair, flattened on one side. "I presume I won't hear any more objections to our arrangement, then? Like I've always said, Tanya is a really lovely girl. I knew you would come around."

James grinned and winked at Edward, who just shook his head in irritation and entered his room, shutting the door firmly behind him.

**-xxx-**

"That will do, Mary," said Tanya smoothly, as her lady's maid fastened the garnet pendant around Tanya's neck. She looked at herself in the mirror with satisfaction. The rich reddish-brown velvet dress would keep her warm outside at the balloon launch but fit close to her body, accentuating every part of her that she was eager to show off to Edward. She inhaled deeply, examining herself from every angle.

She turned to Mary and spread her arms out questioningly.

"You look stunning, as always," answered the girl honestly.

"Very well. I shall see you after breakfast," Tanya said, dismissing Mary.

A few minutes later, Tanya exited her room and descended the main staircase on her way to the breakfast room. Halfway down the carpeted stairs, she halted. Through the lower balusters, she could just make out two figures in a darkened hallway to the left, just off of the grand foyer. Curious, Tanya angled her head to try to get a better view of the pair that was standing within a foot of each other, but she was thwarted by the dim light. The drapes were still drawn at the end of that hall and no lamps had been lit.

Tanya's brief interest expired as she shrugged her shoulders and continued down the stair. But as she approached the bottom step, she discovered a startled Edward, coming out of the dark hallway.

"Tanya!" he called, recovering quickly and offering her his arm. "May I walk with you to breakfast?"

"Of course," replied Tanya, sweetly, the very picture of friendly ease. The two covered the short distance to the opposite hallway and entered the light-filled breakfast room where the French aeronaut and Commodore Armstrong stood at the windows, deep in discussion.

"Oh! Edward, I've forgotten something in my room. I shall return in a moment."

Swiftly, Tanya walked back to the darkened corridor off the foyer, where her investigation paid off in its infancy. Coming out of same hallway that Edward had emerged from moments before was the maid who had spilled water on her the previous night. Miss Swan. And she was smiling.

**-xxx-**

"Bella! What on earth are you smiling about again?" demanded Lizzie.

Bella's head snapped up as she set down the small wicker table on a flat piece Wrenfield Hall's immense lawn. The two young women were setting up several chairs and tables for the guests to observe the balloon launch that would take place this afternoon.

_You see, Bella?_ she chided herself. _You have got to stop smiling like that – everyone will notice!_

But Bella found it hard to keep her joy from spilling out. As if the night in Edward's arms hadn't been enough, she had almost literally run into him earlier that morning as she was carrying coal to the drawing room. He had seen her disappear down the darkened hallway and had followed her. She nearly bumped into him as she came back out of the drawing room and into the hallway. They had stood closely and conversed for a few moments before she became nervous that they would be discovered and made him leave her. She did see Miss Winters when she was leaving the hallway, but thankfully by then Edward was long gone.

But now Lizzie had noticed and Bella didn't know how she was going to evade her questions. She stared at Lizzie, her mouth forming a silent o, then shaking her head as one corner of her mouth pulled up into another smile. She ducked her head, trying to hide it but it was no use.

"Bella, I swear to you, if you don't tell me what is going on with you, I will never speak to you again." Lizzie crossed her arms and tapped her foot, her temper beginning to rise to match her flaming hair.

"I – ah, I can't," Bella said, her face apologetic.

Lizzie slowly tilted her head at her, a fierce look forming.

"Alright!" Bella finally surrendered, throwing her arms up in the air. "I'll tell you something, but I can't – _I can't_ - tell you everything. I have to be discreet for the time being." She paused. "I've met someone."

Lizzie gave a wild screech and clasped her hands in front of her. "_Bella!" _she cried. "I just knew something was different with you the last few days! You!" She swatted her with the rag she had been using to wipe down the wicker furniture. "Why didn't you _tell_ me? Oh my goodness, I am thrilled! When did you meet him? Where? Is he that new man who has been working with Thomas? Oooh, he's just lovely…or perhaps someone from the village? It's that Crowley boy! Yes! I knew it, Mrs. Cope thought so too!"

Bella laughed at her friend's exuberance. "Ohhh, no, Lizzie, none of those choices." She closed her eyes briefly, smiling and shaking her head. "No, it's…well, it's – it's complicated. We're not exactly…well, we don't socialize together. I…"

Lizzie's smile faded. "Oh, no, Bella dear. No. Listen to me, Mr. James does this nearly every time he comes home! He finds someone on the staff and singles them out for whatever sick game he plays in his head and then he leaves them brokenhearted. We've all seen it happen before, I just never thought to warn you because I couldn't imagine you falling for him. I'm so sorry…"

Bella's eyes widened. "No!" she cried out "No, it's not _that_ Mr. Masen. There is no possibility-"

"What do you mean, _that_ Mr. Masen?" asked Lizzie quietly.

"Oh." Bella covered her face in her hands. "Lizzie," she whispered, "you can not tell a soul. Not Bobby, not Mrs. Cope, not even that wild cat that you feed at the back door. No one. At all. Do you understand?"

Lizzie stared and nodded. And waited.

Bella sighed. Quickly she recounted the story of the meeting in the library, the book appearing in her bedroom and their developing friendship.

"But in the last few days things have…well, they've changed. And I don't really know what's happening but I know how he makes me feel, and I think he feels the same way."

Lizzie shook her head. "Lord Masen is a finer man than his brother in every respect. I believe him to be good and honest, but Bella - I just can't see any way that this can end well for you."

Bella stared at the ground for a long minute. "I know," she finally whispered. "But I just keep hoping for something...I don't know what."

Lizzie looked hard at her friend then gathered her into a quick, tight hug. "Come on. Let's get these chairs set up, we still have a lot to do before that big mass of silk rises into the air," Lizzie said, indicating the enormous balloon that was spread out on the lawn before them.

Bella smiled a subdued smile. "Thank you, Lizzie – and remember – no one, not even that cat."

**-xxx-**

Tanya pushed the door to her chamber open and was pleased to find Mary there, rising as she entered.

"Ma'am" said the girl, curtseying.

"Mary, where are the servant's quarters in this house?" she asked abruptly.

Mary was taken aback. "The servant's quarters, ma'am?"

"Yes, yes, where the help sleeps, do you understand or do your Irish ears not comprehend the Queen's English?" she snapped.

Eyes wide, face reddened, Mary explained where the servant's quarters were located.

"Thank you," said Tanya, calming slightly. "I understand there's quite a view of where the balloon will be launched from that part of the house and I wanted to get a look at all of it before this afternoon. In case anyone asks," she added as an afterthought.

"Would you like me to come with you?" Mary squeaked out.

"No. I will be fine on my own." And she left the room.

She wound her way down hallways and up stairs until she came to the plain, low ceilinged third floor. Eyes bright, lips pursed, she stood for a moment, contemplating her next move. Then, she quickly opened the first door to her right, and, like Edward months before, she immediately found what she was looking for.

Inside Bella's room, identified by the sampler on the wall with the telltale Swan name, Tanya stood with fists clenched. Her suspicions were murky and undeveloped but she was following her instincts.

_He is to be my husband_, she thought, _even if he hasn't said a word about it yet. It will happen and I'll be damned if any mousy floor-scrubber is going to upset all that I have planned._

Tanya looked around the room…the miniature portrait of her Bella's father, the samplers, the lavender hanging on the wall, a beautiful copy of _Far From the Madding Crowd_ by Thomas Hardy on the dresser, the print of San Marco Piazza. At this Tanya leaned in briefly for a closer look.

_San Marco? Well, dream big, darling._

Nothing in this small, tidy room seemed out of place, nothing warranted a second look. Sighing, Tanya turned to go.

And then she saw it. The glint of gold lying on the floor between the bed and the bedside table reflected in the morning sun. She took two steps forward and snatched up the pocket watch. She didn't even need to look closely – she recognized Edward's watch and the monogram – EAM – was unmistakable.

With a small growl, Tanya closed her hand around the watch.

**So, what do you think?**

**Is it super pathetic that I'm excited to be nearing 100 reviews? Can we (uhh, you, I guess) break the 100 mark?**

**And if you're excited for the next chapter, I am even more. I promise I'll try to get it up as soon as I can, but I have this whole, like **_**family**_** and **_**life**_** and stuff that sometimes gets in the way of writing fanfic for hours on end. But I'm working on it!**


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**All right! Which one of you Crazies nominated me for an award?**

**That's right – I have arrived in the world of fanfic. I have been nominated for a Rare Gem Award in the Sparkleteers fanfic competition (the Sparkleteers? Really? There is so little dignity in the online TwiWorld), in the Best Author category, Diamond in the Rough tier (for stories with under 999 reviews). I'm making fun a little bit here, but for real, I am more than flattered that someone thought enough of my story to actually take the time to fill out a nomination form. Seriously, thanks, whoever you are. It actually really made my day.**

**So, with the smallest number of reviews of any story in my category, I'm thinking that it's not super likely I'll win, but I'm hoping I'll get a few more readers out of it anyway, which makes me really happy.**

**"**_**Would you say my chances are like one out of a hundred?" **_

**"**_**More like one out of a million." **_

**"**_**So you're telling me there's a CHANCE!"**_

_**Dumb and Dumber**_

**(Oh, and if you want to vote, go to www . thesparkleteers . blogspot . com)**

**Chapter Thirteen**

The wind whistled sharply across Edward's face, cutting through his heavy wool overcoat and stinging his ears. But he scarcely noticed. He grasped the edge of the balloon basket with gloved hands and leaned forward slightly, in awe of the beauty of the country that lay before him.

From this height he could easily see the stream and stone bridge he loved so well, the ancient woods to the east, the vast fields where his tenants grew barley and oats and grazed their livestock. The early afternoon sun highlighted the brown and faded green fields and bare trees and Edward could make out the far off figure of Billy Ellis struggling with a heavy stone, setting it in place to repair the fence that penned in his sheep. Billy was just sixteen but had been doing the work of a man since his father died the year before. Edward knew his mother and four younger siblings relied on him heavily.

His eyes traced the line of the tidy stone fence to the little cottage of Old Delwyn Hughes and his wife, Elinor. Edward smiled as he remembered the hot griddle cakes Elinor would make when he was a boy and would wander as far as their small farm. Her thick Welsh accent made the stories of her childhood in Wales nearly unintelligible as he sat on their stone back step, stuffing his little face with the sweet, currant-studded treats. The couple had no children and doted on Edward and James whenever their ramblings took them to their doorstep. Elinor was twisted with arthritis now but Old Del still harvested a good crop every year – barley one year, oats the next, in order to preserve the soil.

He picked out the houses and farms of the seven other tenants who depended on the Masen estate – the Morgans and their nine children, the Leatherby brothers, two bachelors who fought each other constantly but would demolish anyone who dared cross the other, the Harringtons, an older couple whose farm was surrounded on all sides by the farms of their four sons and their families, Emily and Rufus Watson, married just last year, and the Allertons with their sickly daughter.

Some of these families had been on Masen land as long as it had been known as such. Generations of Leatherbys and Allertons and Harringtons had toiled and sweated and carved out lives for themselves, and the Masens had always been a part of that. As he looked at his estate, Edward thought of his father – his father who had loved the land with a quiet passion and had felt it his duty to do right by it and those who lived there.

"Stunning," said Commodore Armstrong, pulling Edward out of his thoughts. "You have an impressive piece of God's green earth here."

"Thank you, sir," replied Edward. "It is my home."

The commodore squinted his eyes and looked far off to the edge of the horizon. "Tell me, how far is that hill over there?" he asked, pointing his finger.

"Seven miles," was the answer. "It's known locally as Preacher's Hill."

"And that?" the commodore queried again, indicating another rise in the distance.

"Closer to five miles."

"The visual range from up here _is_ impressive," mused Commodore Armstrong. "It would be a great advantage to have such a lookout."

Edward agreed. Whatever he thought about James and his compulsory tendencies, he was right about the potential of the balloons in military situations.

**-xxx-**

"More tea, ma'am?" asked Bella, grateful for the warmth of the teapot on her stiff fingers. She fought a shiver as the November chill bit through the cotton of her black dress and apron.

Miss Winters gave a curt nod as she continued to gaze upward at the white orb high above her that was tethered to an enormous hand-cranked winch by hundreds of feet of rope. She adjusted the thick fur cape that enveloped her and tucked the wool blanket tighter around her lap.

"You know, father," she said, taking the freshly poured cup of tea from the wicker table at her side, " we should have a balloon launch back in London. Hyde Park, maybe, or Richmond Park. It would be such fun when Edward is in London next. That is, if we can find the opportunity!"

Tanya laughed as she continued. "Edward has promised me nearly all of his time – I told him he simply must come with me to see that darling new show, _H. M. S. Pinafore_, and of course there are all the winter balls and the Christmas concert at the symphony. We'll scarcely find time to eat!"

Mr. Winters beamed at his only child.

"Of course, dear. I'm sure he'll be in town soon."

"Really, father?" said Tanya, fixing her father with a little girl pout.

"Certainly, sweetheart! He'll have business in town quickly enough, you can count on it."

"Mmm, wonderful," smiled Tanya, snuggling deeper into her furs. "I do so love it when he's in town."

"I know, poppet," said Mr. Winters, patting Tanya on her knee as he stood. He smiled and crossed the lawn to talk with the two men who were now slowly winding back the winch, pulling the balloon back to earth.

After a moment, Tanya shed her lap blanket and stood, facing forward. Bella, too, faced forward as she stood quietly at Tanya's left, hands clasped behind her back.

Then Tanya spoke, in a voice so low that Bella was scarcely aware she had spoken.

"We _always_ have a lovely time in London, Edward and I." And she turned to stare Bella full in the face, eyes icy and unblinking. "He's a very, very dear friend."

Bella blanched and stared back at the beautiful woman for a moment before dropping her eyes, feeling weak.

Tanya's gaze was locked on her for a second more, then she pulled her cape around her tightly and walked over to the balloon basket that had just touched down.

Bella felt her body begin to tremble from both the cold and Tanya's words and she steadied herself on the back of a chair. Her eyes followed Tanya's elegant figure across the lawn and to the basket, where she leaned in closely to Edward, putting her hand on his arm. She was too distant to hear, but after a moment, she watched the commodore exit the basket and Tanya being lifted in by James, joining Edward and the French aeronaut on another ascent.

Tanya gripped Edward's upper arm tightly, wiggling her body closer to his. After a moment, she turned her face to his and spoke into his ear. A cold wind whipped around Bella as she saw Edward lift his arm from his side and wrap it around Tanya's fur covered shoulder.

**-xxx-**

"Again? Are you certain, Bradford?" Bella looked imploringly at the butler as they stood in the hallway between the kitchen and the servant's dining room.

"There is no one else available, Bella, and, forgetting the unfortunate incident with Miss Winters' gown," – Bella winced at the mention - "you performed well enough last night. But we'll keep you away from her, just for a caution."

Bradford gave Bella a rare, small smile and left the hallway.

**-xxx-**

The clock in the hall was striking eleven as a weary Bella climbed the stairs to the third floor, carrying a bucket of warm water. Once safely ensconced in her little gabled room, she slowly removed her uniform, washed with the warm water, donned her nightgown, cleaned her teeth, braided her hair and sank onto her bed, wrapping herself with the red wool blanket. She curled her knees to her chest, staring blankly at the wall until her chin suddenly puckered and her eyes stung with unshed tears.

The words of her mother's sampler swam before her eyes, but she knew them by heart.

"Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."

Bella had laboured. She had carried heavy buckets of coal and furniture, shivered in the cold in thin garments, stood for hours on aching feet, struggled with weighty silver platters filled with crown roast and gratins and ice creams and cakes. She had restored the dining room to order while her eyes were threatening to close of their own accord, then, in a state of near sleep, half carried, half dragged a bucket of water to her room so she could take care of her own needs.

But worse than the physical burden she bore was the weight on her heart.

How had it all gone so wrong? Bella clenched her jaw tightly to stifle her tears. This morning she had been so happy…seeing Edward by the soft glow of her lamp, the way he looked at her, touched her…how he seemed hungry for even the few minutes they shared in that darkened hallway before his breakfast.

But a few minutes in Miss Winters' presence yanked her from the clouds she was sailing in and slammed her unceremoniously to the ground.

_You are a fool!_ Bella thought, not for the first time that night. _We do not share the same world – he lives in her world. I just scrub the floors and serve the tea there._

Dinner had been nearly unbearable. Miss Winters dominated the conversation and kept it centered on her recent trip to Italy, rapturously recounting her time in Venice, strolling in San Marco Piazza and floating down the shimmering waterways that crisscrossed the city. It was as if she had reached into Bella's head and snatched out her fondest dream, inserted herself into it and held it up mockingly.

But most excruciatingly, Edward did not once look at her. She was utterly invisible.

The ache in her heart grew as she clutched her knees even closer to her chest. It seemed that Lizzie had been right after all – there did not seem to be any way this was going to end well for her.

All at once, Bella was nearly overcome with an intense desire for her mother. She longed for the warmth of her arms, a warmth she scarcely remembered. She wanted to have her mother tell her she was beautiful and precious and loved in the way only a mother could, to stroke her forehead and sing her to sleep.

At this, the tears finally came. Silently, they slipped out, one after the other, a seemingly never-ending stream.

But tears cannot last forever, and after some time, Bella calmed and sighed.

_All right. You win, Miss Winters. You have played your hand well and I was never even invited to the game._

Still wrapped in Edward's mother's blanket, she crawled into her bed and fell into an exhausted sleep almost instantly.

**-xxx-**

"Edward! Come now! If you leave we'll not have a fourth and I'm not ready to stop the game. Are you?" James asked the two other men sitting at the green felt-topped table.

"No! I will be up all ze night, eef I keep winning like zees," Emile, the French balloon pilot proclaimed enthusiastically, indicating the large pile of chips he had amassed.

"Well, I'm good for another round, at least," said Thatcher, one of the engineers from the factory, puffing on a cigar.

"I'll be ten minutes, no more," said Edward. "Carry on and I'll return much more comfortably." And he left the room.

"Ah, well, you can't begrudge a man a visit to the loo, even if he is interrupting the game," said James, shuffling the cards. "In the meantime, another drink, gentlemen?"

Edward left the drawing room and walked quickly up the stairs and further up to the third floor. Below him he heard the clock strike quarter past midnight.

_Surely she's asleep_, he thought, and cursed James again for insisting on the card game so late into the evening. This was to be his last night in the house for at least a fortnight and the thought of leaving without saying goodbye to his Bella made him feel sick.

Within moments he was at her door, knocking quietly and urgently at her door and pushing it open without waiting for her response.

"Bella?" he whispered in the darkness.

A rustle of bedclothes and the soft creak of the old bed indicating Bella's awakening.

"Edward?"

He knelt at her bedside and found her face in the darkness, holding it softly in one hand while his other hand searched for hers.

"I have only a moment before James wonders where I am," he whispered, gripping her hand. "I'm leaving in the morning and I had to say goodbye."

"Goodbye…?" said Bella, her voice confused and sleepy.

"I'll be back as soon as I am able, but Commodore Armstrong is fairly certain that if we go to London right away and meet the head of the Royal Engineers the manufacturing contract is ours."

"Oh…congratulations."

"And I still have…other matters to attend to. Bella, I know things have been awkward with Miss Winters here, and you must be wondering what is going on between she and I. Truthfully, our pairing had once seemed a forgone conclusion, but now…now I am hoping my life with take a different path." His fingers traced down the side of her face and his thumb brushed over her lower lip. Her heart gave an irregular beat.

"But as I said before, I am still not entirely free to be making my own decisions. I have much I have to work out before the way is clear for us. But please, Bella…" his voice grew intense and urgent. "Please understand that what I feel for you I have never felt for anyone in my life. And I want you."

"Edward…" said Bella wonderingly. Her free hand reached out and she threaded her fingers through his hair, feeling it's tousled silkiness and wishing that she could pull that head toward her and show Edward exactly how she felt.

But Edward leaned in quickly and hesitated for a moment before he gave her a gentle kiss.

"Oh…also…" Edward gave an embarrassed laugh. "I think I left my pocket watch in here last evening."

His hand searched in the darkness on the top of the bedside table to no avail. "Perhaps the floor?" he wondered aloud. His hands felt the small space between the table and the bed and Bella reached for the lamp, intending to light it to aid in the search.

"Ah!" he said in a triumphant whisper. "Here it is." He deposited the solid timepiece in his pocket and stood. He paused for a moment and then bent down to kiss Bella on the top of her head. With everything in him he wanted to lay down with her, to have her sleep in his arms again, to feel her tired weight melt into him. Truthfully, he wanted much more than that but he ushered those thoughts out of his head in an instant. _You are a gentleman_, he reminded himself yet again.

Before Bella could process the brief visit, he was gone with a soft click of the door latch.

She lay back down, but sleep did not come. She was thrilled, confused, elated, wondering. The longer she lay there, the more clearly did several things come to her. He was _her_ Edward. She knew it, she felt it, she wanted him. It was also clear that Miss Winters was at least somewhat aware of the feelings she had for Edward and perhaps Edward's for her. And her actions of the past day were obviously designed to send a message to Bella – _retreat_. Miss Winters intended to become Lady Masen and she wasn't about to have her plans snagged by anyone, least of all someone hardly worth her notice, someone like Bella.

And so, the tired, defeated young woman who had slept in the small gabled room just hours before was slowly replaced by a woman who knew what she wanted – Edward. And whatever the other obstacles were to their happy union, she knew but one, Tanya Winters. And that was a challenge she could rise to.

She sat upright in bed and threw her covers off, snatching her shawl from the hook behind the door. Without a pause, she opened the door and silently flew down the stairs and made her way to the darkened hallway where most of the bedchambers were.

_If Tanya Winters is competing for Edward,_ she thought with fiercely, _well, then, two can play at that game._

The clock struck two as Bella's hand closed on Edward's doorknob_. _She hesitated for a fraction of a second and then pushed it open.

**Note: The Royal Engineers did in fact form a Balloon Unit in 1878, which is the year this story takes place. Balloon-type airships were used by the military during the first World War. I'm not sure if all my other facts surrounding the balloons are correct here. Would the Navy be using them? I don't know. Would a French aeronaut really have worked for a British company? Also don't know that but I do know the French did use balloon technology in 1870 when Paris was under siege by the Prussians. Mail, people and passenger pigeons were lifted out and away from Paris when it was surrounded (the passenger pigeons were for sending messages back to Paris as the winds were not good for balloons returning to Paris). Sixty-six balloons left Paris during the siege with 58 landing safely.**

**Anyway. Fun facts. Or something like that.**

**Also – I know this is a really short chapter, and I waaaas going to include what happens INSIDE Edward's bedroom (ahem…please recall there is T rating on this story, but that doesn't mean we can't have a **_**leetle**_** fun), but it was just too good a place to leave it! I know! Sorry guys, but I'll try to have chapter 14 up soon, soon, soon.**


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**It has come to my attention that the web address I gave you all with the last chapter for the Sparkleteer Rare Gem contest (for which I have been *ahem* nominated, thankyouverymuch) didn't work. Since fanfiction . net doesn't like web addresses of any kind, it might have gotten messed up, I don't know. Probably I messed it up. But here it is again: thesparkleteerawards . blogspot . com. Or just google sparkleteer - you can find it easily that way.**

**I must, as always, thank my husband for reading, editing and giving me such great ideas. Still kind of amazed by having husband as beta...**

**Without further ado, I give you Chapter Fourteen!**

**Chapter Fourteen**

Bella slipped quickly through the doorway to Edward's room, shutting it quietly behind her. The room was dimly lit by the glowing coals in the fireplace and her eyes swept quickly over the rich furnishings. A high-backed wing chair was positioned in front of the fire to the left and a large mahogany wardrobe took up a good portion of the right side of the room. To the left of the wardrobe stood a vast four-poster bed with a mass of deep red and brown bed linens. She had never before entered this room and a sudden thrill ran through her as she felt his nearness.

Bella approached the bed silently until she saw a familiar mess of bronze hair in the tangle of sheets and covers.

For a moment her nerve failed her – what kind of woman was she to go creeping into her master's bedroom at night, in her night clothes? Briefly her mind flashed to Rev. Webber and his sermons on living a chaste and virtuous life and to Angela and Ben and their sweet wedding, unsullied by any late nights and guilty mornings.

But Angela had been lucky! Ben was not bound by mysterious constraints and no one had been hovering over him, waiting to pounce. Bella did not have the luxury of allowing courtship to take its usual course, waiting for innocent kisses on a walk down a country lane, for a sweet dance at a ball. Miss Winters' statements and actions made it clear – she wanted Edward for herself.

Bella wanted him, too, and suddenly she was tired of waiting for Edward to come to her, tired of hoping that he could sense how much she cared, tired of feeling powerless and defeated and humiliated whenever Miss Winters was near. She was ready for the fight and she could not let him go to London, further into Tanya's domain, without a clear understanding of her feelings for him.

With her mouth set in a determined line, her heart pounding and her hands trembling, she took the final step to the bed and lowered her head to his.

"Edward?" she whispered.

His head jerked up out of a deep sleep, his eyes squinting at Bella's form in the near darkness. "Bella? What's wrong? Are you alright?" His face was clouded with concern.

Bella stared for a moment. "I'm fine, Edward, but I need you to know…before you go…you need to understand how I feel about you."

Edward opened his mouth to speak but Bella shook her head. "Listen to me. I love you. I want to be yours and I want you to be mine." Edward sat up in the bed, watching Bella in wonder as she continued.

"We are from different worlds – we both know that. And I recognize that a match with you is to my far greater advantage than yours. I know there are obstacles to our happiness, and I know that someday soon you will tell me about them. I know Miss Winters wants you too, and I know that she would be much better for you in so many ways-"

At this Edward opened his mouth again and began to shake his head, but she put up her hand to stop him.

"But let there be no mistake – _this_ is how I feel."

And with that Bella reached out, took his nightshirt in her fists and pulled him to her fiercely. Her mouth crashed against his and she felt a surprised intake of breath from his open mouth. Motivated by both love and passion, she pulled harder on the linen twisted in her hands, forcing his chest even closer to her as her mouth moved roughly against his. She took his lower lip in between hers and caressed it with her tongue for a moment until she realized that he still had not moved. Her movements slowed until she, too, was still. Her hands slowly released his nightshirt from their grasp and she drew her head back from his. Her passion began to ebb as she felt the familiar flush of embarrassment creep up her neck and into her cheeks. She looked into his eyes that were frozen on her face, a look of shock in them.

She took a step back, eyes still locked in his.

"Oh…I'm sorry, Edward…I…I shouldn't have…I don't know what-"

But Edward, eyes still wide, shook his head at her words.

"Bella," was all he could say, and he swiftly reached out to bring her back to him. He caught her around her waist, pulling her hips flush against the edge of his mattress. His strong arms captured her tightly in an embrace, his head tilting in to hers as he found her lips with his own.

Bella nearly cried with relief as she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, pushing her mouth even harder against his, reveling in the feeling of his hot breath on her face and his hands splayed across her back.

After a moment, she felt herself being lifted off the floor and onto Edward's bed as he fell backward, taking her with him. Bella could feel his muscled chest beneath her rising and falling with each breath and she shivered from the sensation. She lifted her mouth from his briefly and found his jaw with her lips – that jaw she had so often watched surreptitiously with fascination and desire, the sharp angle that defined the rest of his beautiful face. She attacked it with increased fervor, moving heatedly down to his neck to his collarbone. Edward ground his teeth together to try to stifle a groan but it escaped and his hands clutched the fabric of her nightdress desperately, pulling the cotton until he heard a small rip.

The ripping fabric startled Edward out of his ecstasy and he felt himself hurtling back to earth.

"Bella…Bella, stop," he whispered in her ear but she was lost in the deliciousness of his skin, his scent, his hair in her hands, his body against hers…

He grasped her by the shoulders and lifted her gently off him, rising at the same time. His breath was short as he pulled her back and looked into her eyes, his own still dark with desire.

"We have to stop," he said again. "I just ripped your nightdress," he said, incredulously.

She reached back and felt the small tear in her clothing and gave a shaky laugh. "I can fix it," she said, inanely.

"Bella, I'll buy you ten new ones, but that's not the point. We cannot do this, we will regret it."

Bella's shoulders sagged slightly and Edward pulled her into his arms again. "I _want_ to do this, please believe me," he begged. "You are the most desirable woman I have ever encountered – ever. You have to know that, and if I was doing exactly what I want to do right now, this garment would be ripped to shreds and hanging from the canopy at this moment."

His voice was low and intense. "But I love you, and I will not dishonor you like this."

"But what if I want to be dishonored?" asked Bella in a small voice, her head resting against his chest as she played with the open v-neck of his nightshirt.

"Oh, please, Bella, don't say that," he groaned into her hair. "I only have so much strength!"

They sat silently for a minute, Bella listening to the still-rapid beat of his heart while he stroked her hair and neck with his long fingers.

"You are right," she said, finally. "Thank you for stopping me…I think," she said with a smile.

"Lay with me for a while, sweet Bella," he whispered, as he slowly pulled her down into the warm nest of pillows and blankets, adjusting the bed coverings until she was completely ensconced in warmth and tucked in tightly at his side. His hand found the small rip and he gently toyed with it, his fingertips brushing the soft skin of her back.

"Talk to me," Bella whispered into his chest. "Tell me anything…tell me about your mother," she suggested.

"Ah." Edward smiled. "I know a lot of boys think this of their mothers, but she was an angel. Really. She had a beautiful, sweet singing voice and she loved to laugh – my father could make her laugh more than anyone. He teased her all the time and she loved it. And my father – my father was a terrible pun maker! He was constantly making plays on words, sometimes clever, sometimes just awful, but my mother couldn't help herself. She laughed every single time! He blamed her for his endless joking. He always said she encouraged him."

Edward chuckled at the memory.

"And she was sharp, too! She didn't tolerate lazy thinking in anyone, least of all her sons. When we were small, she never spoke to us as if we were children, but rather people with valid thoughts and feeling and ideas. She abhorred the way most people talk with their children, with their silly words and high-pitched voices."

"She was forgiving, and fair. The servants all loved her, they truly did. You know, the day that vase broke – "

Bella covered her face with her hands. "Oh, don't remind me!" she groaned.

"Oh, Bella, I don't care about that vase. I only bring it up because I think the reason Mrs. Mallory was so upset was because those vases always reminded her of my mother, and she loved her dearly. My mother was one of the few people I know of who actually enjoyed her company. Mrs. Mallory can be stiff and cold, true, but with my mother – well, my mother brought out the best in her, her friendly side."

"Her _friendly_ side?" asked Bella in disbelief.

"I know," agreed Edward, "but it's true."

"She loved books," he continued. "I get my love of reading from both my father and my mother, but my mother devoured books as if they were candies and she was a child on Christmas morning. You know," Edward said, softly, "in so many ways you are like her."

"Thank you," said Bella, "but you should know, I am a terrible singer."

Edward laughed, pulling her in more closely. "Duly noted."

"And Mrs. Mallory most decidedly does _not_ like me…"

"Give it time, sweetheart," Edward said, kissing the top of her head.

Bella's stomach fluttered at the endearment and she snuggled in closer to him.

"And your father?" she prompted.

Edward sighed and considered his reply before he spoke.

"My father was a gentleman to the core of his being. He loved his family and his estate and he cared about the families who live here on Wrenfield Hall land nearly as much as his own. He forgave many a debt when it was a bad year for crops or there was sickness or death."

"He loved this land dearly. Everything I know about its proper care I learned from him – the importance of not overgrazing the meadows, rotating crops to keep the soil rich, maintaining the forests. He was a gentleman farmer in the truest sense. Sometimes he would even get out and turn a bit of soil himself, get his hands dirty. Mostly in the springtime – he'd get a kind of fever and he'd be out there in the early morning with Thomas, preparing the flowerbeds and putting in the kitchen garden. My mother would just laugh but I think secretly she admired him for it."

Edward paused for a moment. "I'm actually quite a bit like him, surprisingly enough," he said in a voice that was tinged with sadness.

Bella pulled her head back from his chest and looked at him quizzically. "Why should that be a surprise? Sons are often like their fathers."

He shrugged. "Of course."

There was silence for a few moments as Edward's mind drifted.

"Did you have a good relationship?"

"Hmm?" said Edward, pulling his thoughts back to the present.

"Did you get along well?"

"Yes," he whispered. "Yes, we got along very well. He was an exceptional father and as I got older, he became a friend. I miss him every day."

"I'm sorry, Edward," Bella said softly. "It's so hard to lose a father."

The pair lay quietly in the darkness, their breathing synchronized, their sorrow shared.

"Tell me about James," said Bella suddenly. "You've never mentioned him."

She felt his body stiffen.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, placing a hand on his face. She could feel how tight his jaw was.

"No, Bella, it's alright. It's just…" he shook his head. "James and I don't see eye to eye on many things."

"It's sad, really," he said, after a pause. "As boys, we were the best of friends. We would spend all of our waking moments together, riding in the fields, exploring the woods, bothering the kitchen staff with our never-ending requests for food. And when Emmett and Alice were here – Wrenfield Hall was heaven on earth! We called ourselves the Four Musketeers and covered every inch of this house playing hide-and-go-seek and playing pranks on the staff. We once tied a poor dead mouse to a string and rigged up a little pulley system in the pantry so that whoever opened the door would be greeted by the thing dropping in front of their face. Unluckily for us it was Mrs. Cope who found that particular treasure…and she made us pay. She refused to slip us any treats for an entire week! Not to mention, our parents confined us to our rooms for a day and made us write a letter of apology."

Edward laughed quietly at the memory. "But she forgave us, thankfully. She's a good woman."

"But even after all those years together as boys, sometimes people take different paths, pursue different interests. My brother's interests lie nearly exclusively in London. He views Wrenfield Hall merely as a fun diversion every few months, a place to bring his friends in order to impress them with the grandness of the estate, the vast woods, whatever it is that he thinks will elevate him in their estimation. He doesn't care about the land or the tenants or the family history here."

A note of bitterness had crept into his voice and it did not go unnoticed by Bella.

"Is there anything to be done?" she asked quietly. "It seems a shame for brothers to grow so distant."

"I don't know, Bella, I truly don't. For a long time I tried – I would go to London, join him in the activities that he so loves there. But there are only so many balls I can go to and dinner parties I can endure before I have to retreat to my home here. It's the only place I can really breathe."

"I still have hope that our fraternal bonds are stronger than our differences, but as the years go by and we grow more apart, the more I worry that they aren't."

Her hand still on his face, she began to stroke his cheek gently. He closed his eyes and took her hand in his, pressing his lips to her palm.

"Tell me about your friends in the village," he said, moving away from the subject of James.

So she told him of her dear Angela and Rev. and Mrs. Webber and her other girlfriends from the village school. And she told him of Jacob and her broken heart.

"What a fool!" said Edward in disbelief when he learned that he chose another woman over Bella.

"Not really," said Bella with a shrug. "He just fell in love, I see that now. And besides, if we had married I wouldn't be here with you now."

Edward conceded that she made an excellent point and he pulled her in even closer to him, kissing her forehead tenderly.

"I could stay here with you forever," he whispered against her skin.

"All you have to do is ask," she whispered back.

"I want to…please believe me. But I have some things to work out before the way is clear for us. And I hope that this trip to London will take care of all of the impediments. Please pray for it, Bella."

"I will."

Again they lay quietly, soaking in the closeness of the other, the warmth and safety they felt in each other's arms.

Finally Bella spoke.

"I don't want to leave but I'm afraid Mrs. Mallory will be knocking on my door soon. Not to mention it might be…rather awkward, to say the least, if Bradford comes in to get your day started and finds me in here."

Edward sighed. He knew it was true but he was loath to let her go. Every time they parted was harder than the last. For the hundredth time he said a silent prayer that all would go well in London and they could be together again soon.

"Alright, sweetheart."

They both sat up and Bella climbed out of the bed, Edward following her. For a moment they looked at each other and shared a laugh. Bella had never seen a man other than her father in a nightshirt and the intimacy of the moment made her blush.

They stood at his door, pausing, neither one willing to let the other go.

"One more kiss, Bella," he whispered, and he placed his hands on either side of her neck, drawing her to him. This kiss was soft and sweet, as Edward tried hard not to think of the earlier kisses on the bed… In this kiss he poured all of the love and the tenderness he felt, and the promises he wished so badly he could make to her.

Bella drank it all in, giving herself to the kiss completely.

"I love you," he whispered fervently, when he had pulled his lips from hers. "I love you Isabella Swan."

"I love you, Edward Masen," she whispered back, her voice breaking.

And with that, she pulled herself out of his embrace and slipped out the door as the clock struck four.

**-xxx-**

Mrs. Cope poked her head into the servant's dining room just as the staff was finishing up their breakfast of porridge, stewed plums and coffee.

"Bella?" she inquired. "May I see you?"

Bella looked up from where she was toying with her last bite of porridge, a faint smile on her face.

"Of course," she said, rising and following Mrs. Cope into the hallway.

"Bradford needs you to serve at table again for breakfast," she said, apologetically. "I'm so sorry, dear, I know it's uncomfortable for you."

"I'd be happy to," Bella said with a smile.

Mrs. Cope looked taken aback. "Really, dear?" she asked dubiously.

"Yes. I'm glad to help," said Bella, and she floated down the hallway in a haze.

Mrs. Cope watched her go, her mouth pursed and her brow furrowed in confusion and concern. _There is something up with that girl_, she thought. _I think Lizzie knows what but for the first time in her life she won't open her mouth._

After a moment she sighed, shrugged her shoulders and turned back to the kitchen. There was a tray of scones in the oven that needed attending to.

**-xxx-**

"This soufflé is marvelous," said Mr. Winters, tucking into his second helping. "Please give my compliments to the cook," he said, directing his remark to the nearest servant.

"Of course," said Bella, nodding her head at Tanya's father.

Tanya watched Bella with careful eyes. Something was different about the girl and Tanya didn't like it. What had happened to the blushing, nervous girl of the previous two nights? Why wasn't she dropping her eyes every time someone looked at her?

She couldn't have seen Edward last night, Tanya was sure of it. He had been playing cards until after one o'clock, James had mentioned it this morning. She heard him pass by her doorway at that late hour and she peeked into the hallway to see Edward enter his room – alone. She waited by her door for at least a half an hour, listening for any sounds in the hallway, and hearing none and fighting sleep, she finally retired.

So, she thought with satisfaction, unless something happened between two in the morning and whatever ungodly early hour the help had to get up to prepare for the day, they hadn't seen each other last night.

Still, she was unsettled. Once again she wished she had kept Edward's watch that she had found that dingy little closet where the girl slept. What she would have done with it she wasn't sure, but now she had no evidence of him ever being in there.

And, she thought with irritation, until she could actually get him to commit to _anything_, much less an engagement, she had no real claim on him – so she couldn't confront him about his carrying on with that girl.

Tanya scowled and attacked a piece of ham on her plate ferociously, then recovered herself and deposited it daintily in her mouth, chewing with mincing bites.

"Edward," she said prettily, when her mouth was clear, "which night would you like to go to the theater? We could go on Friday night but then we'd have to miss the Morgan's annual ball and they always have such lovely decorations! I was thinking Thursday? That way we could also keep Saturday night open for a dinner party at our house – right father?"

"Of course, darling," said Mr. Winters. "A dinner in honor of the Masen brothers and their fantastic balloons!"

"Wonderful," she beamed, clapping her hands. "And Sunday, of course, we'll have our regular card party at your house, James – oh, it will be such fun!"

As she speared another piece of ham, her eyes slid surreptitiously to Bella, expecting to see her face pale and dejected. But to her extreme vexation, Bella stood serenely, a hint of a smile on her lips. Worse, Edward wore a similar expression as he idly pushed a piece of soufflé around his plate.

Tanya fumed silently as talk shifted to yesterday's successful balloon launch.

"Well I found it just glorious," said Mr. Winters. "To be so far from the earth, nearer to the sun than I ever have been – actually, I felt a bit like Icarus, afraid my wings were going to melt off!" he said with a chuckle.

"Well let's hope we all have better sense than Icarus," observed Commodore Armstrong dryly, as he plucked a golden pear from a silver-footed platter at the center of the table.

"_I, Daedalus; my poor boy, Icarus;" _the Commodore quoted,_  
"Thy father, Minos, that denied our course;  
The sun that sear'd the wings of my sweet boy  
Thy brother Edward, and thyself the sea  
Whose envious gulf did swallow up his life."_

"The Bard, eh?" said James jovially. "Richard III?"

Mr. Winters frowned. "No, King Lear, wasn't it?"

"You know, I'll be damned if I can't remember," said Commodore Armstrong, chagrined. "But I heard my father quote it to me enough."

"I think from Othello, then," said James, but then faltered. "No, perhaps not…Edward?"

Edward shrugged. "I'm of no use here, either. Too obscure for me.

Tanya laughed and gave a little tsk. "I'm afraid my literature tutor would be disappointed. It's seems to have flown out of my head at the moment."She paused and her lips curled into a hint of a smile, "But don't give up hope. We haven't polled everyone, gentlemen. How rude of us to overlook the others here."

She turned to address Bella sweetly. "What about you, girl? Have you studied the Bard?"

Bella looked up, startled by Tanya's direct question.

"Perhaps you can help us remember the source of the Commodore's quote? You know . . . seared wings? . . . flying too close to the sun?"

Bella recovered quickly and gave a small smile.

"Of course, ma'am. It's from Henry VI," she said. "Part III."

The entire room fell silent.

"It's Henry, speaking to Richard III, just before Richard kills him," Bella continued quietly. "It's quite the dramatic scene."

She picked up the crystal water pitcher, refilled the Commodore's water goblet and stepped back to her place at the wall.

Commodore Armstrong broke the silence. "Good show!" he applauded, turning to face Bella. "Well done, my dear!"

Bella rewarded the man with a smile and nodded her head graciously.

"I wonder…" said the commodore. _"If music be the food of love, play on."_

"Twelfth Night," Bella responded immediately.

"_If you prick us, do we not bleed? if you tickle us, do we not laugh? if you poison us, do we not die? and if you wrong us, shall we not revenge?" _

"Merchant of Venice."

"_It is the green-eyed monster which doth mock."_

"Othello."

"_The course of true love never did run smooth."_

At this Bella smiled briefly. "A Midsummer Night's Dream."

"Extraordinary!" exclaimed Commodore Armstrong, smiling broadly at Bella, who blushed but smiled back.

Amid the cheers and praise from the men at the table, Tanya sat stonily, then pasted a smile on her face.

"Lovely," she said, her candied voice lost in the clamor. "Brava."

Her eyes shot over to the head of the table where Edward sat watching Bella. He was quiet, a smile on his lips. And he actually looked _proud._


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Hi! Remember me? Remember this story? It's been a while, I know. Crossing my fingers that you guys haven't completely lost interest during this last dry spell.**

**So, yes, the new laptop finally got delivered, but it was right in the middle of TWELVE CONSECUTIVE DAYS of serious stomach-bug illness here at our house. So, with all that and then recovery, it's been while getting back to the writing.**

**While re-reading Wrenfield Hall to get myself back into the swing of things before commencing writing again, I discovered that there are a whole lot of things I would go back and change/fix in previous chapters. I feel like there are a lot of scenes/situations/characters that could really use some fleshing out and as a writer who is new to fiction, I feel like I have a LOT to learn. Also, there are some big errors, e.g. when Bella goes in to Edward's room in Chapter Fourteen, I write that she had never been in there before, which is, of course, not true. She had been there when she helped drunk Edward to his room a few chapters back. So, there are obviously problems with the write-as-you-go system. If you find any more errors, sorry! I've probably noticed them, too.**

**Regarding this chapter – for me, this chapter did not flow the way that some of the others did. Sometimes when I write, I feel like I can't get the words from my brain to my fingertips to the screen fast enough. But this…this felt labored at times. Maybe it's because it's sort of filler, but really, it's **_**necessary**_** filler. The story can't really progress otherwise.**

**So, hope it still works for all of you. Just picture Edward a lot and everything should be ok. **

**Chapter Fifteen**

The weak, grey light of dawn crept in through the large windows of Edward's bedroom, the hazy shapes of furniture becoming slowly clearer. Edward breathed deeply in his sleep, rolling over toward the center of the bed. As his legs sprawled out, twisted in the bedclothes, his foot struck something warm and soft. The unfamiliar sensation pulled him out of his sleep and his eyes slowly drifted open, adjusting after a moment to the pale light. He turned his head to the side and smiled at the sight of the softly curved back of his dearest love, rising and falling in regular rhythm. She was facing away from him, curled around a mound of bed linens, a nest of soft pillows obscuring her head from Edward's view. The bedspread was half on the floor, with more pillows strewn about the bed and floor. A lacey white nightgown lay in crumpled pile at the very corner of the bed where it had been flung, hitting the smooth wood of the post and sliding down. Beyond the bedpost on a satin hanger was a silk wedding gown. A frothy veil lay carefully over the back of a chair.

Edward closed his eyes in perfect contentment and a wide, toothy smile spread over his face. He suddenly wanted every part of his wife next to him and so he rolled over, gently caressing her back for a moment before drawing her into his arms. She gave a soft sigh and stretched, then giggled as Edward nuzzled the back of her neck.

"Good morning, wife," he said quietly.

"And good morning to you," she replied, turning to face him, her strawberry blond locks spilling over the pillows as she moved. "But I love to hear you say my name – call me Tanya as often as you can."

Edward stared in horror at the woman in his arms. Where was the chestnut hair he loved so, the deep brown eyes? What was Tanya doing in his bed? _Where was his Bella?_

"Ahh, dear Edward, don't look so upset," cooed Tanya, as she ran a long finger down his stricken face. "You always knew this was how it would end. We _belong_ together, you and I. This should be no surprise." And she placed a jeweled hand on his shoulder, gently at first, then firmer, beginning to shake it…

…the shaking continued, roughly, and Edward's head finally snapped up from where it had lolled against the back cushion of the train seat.

"Brother, wake up! We're nearly to London. Time to perk up!" James returned to his seat across from Edward in the train compartment and gave a smirk.

"Another late night, eh, Edward? Sorry, but it won't be so easy to find time for that with Tanya here in London. There are advantages to staying under the same roof, I would say." He winked at Edward who looked stunned as he rubbed his eyes and looked out the window at the houses and buildings that flashed by.

"How long was I asleep?" Edward muttered, as he rested his head in his hands.

James shrugged. "An hour, maybe? I don't know. Tanya and her father came by from their compartment to visit but you were so solidly asleep they left. You looked as though you were enjoying a good dream until the end there, when I finally rousted you – you seemed quite agitated. What were you dreaming?"

Edward sighed and shook his head. "Nothing. I don't remember."

James scoffed. "I doubt that. You seemed quite intense about whatever it was. Oh well. You're up now, ready to go! Shall I go get Tanya?" He winked again at Edward.

Edward gave James a dark look.

"Or perhaps not…" said James. "Anyway, look alive! We're pulling into the station, let the London party commence!" He leaned forward, flashed his brother a grin and clapped him heartily on the shoulder.

**-xxx-**

Edward rode in moody silence as the carriage jostled over the cobblestone streets. Already he missed the fresh air of the country – the overwhelming odor of burning coal from innumerable fires invaded his nose and stung his eyes, though he knew he would soon become accustomed to it. The clamor of the streets, the clip-clop of horse's hooves, and the cries of the vendors hawking their wares all irritated him. He longed for the simple song of the wrens, for which his home was named, the quiet babble of the little brook, the rushing sound of wind through the trees in the forests.

But mostly he wanted Bella. It was early evening and he hadn't seen her since her astonishing performance at breakfast. Edward hadn't believed it possible, but he thought he loved her even more now. Seeing her strong and confident, not shrinking in Tanya's – or anyone's – presence, he could feel his heart swelling with love, pride and any other number of emotions. Lust, even? His mind wandered to fantasies of lying in bed with her while they read from Shakespeare's sonnets, perhaps laughing as they recited passages from _A Midsummer Night's Dream _or one of the other great comedies.

Edward closed his eyes and shook his head slightly in frustration. Damn, damn James! Damn his need for Winters' money and influence! Damn his disregard for Edward's wishes!

For a brief moment he considered coming clean with James about why he could not marry Tanya. Perhaps if he knew…perhaps he could be persuaded to work with Edward on a more palatable solution. Surely, James would not be so hard as to stand in the way of true love.

But just as quickly as the thought occurred to Edward he dismissed it. James had never proven himself to be anything but selfish and unsentimental, at least in recent years. Perhaps when they were younger and closer, James could have seen his way to sacrifice for his own flesh and blood. But now…Edward hardly knew the man who sat across from him in the carriage, his face at ease, excited to be back in the hustle and bustle of the city with which he was so enamored.

James caught Edward's eye and gave a patronizing sigh.

"Really, Edward, if you keep that scowl on your face much longer I'm afraid it may stay fixed there and you risk Tanya not wanting to be seen in public with you. I'd have to step in as her escort for all the events we have planned while you are here and you wouldn't want that, now would you?"

Edward tilted his head slightly and gave James a hard look.

"You are most welcome to her, brother," he said in a short voice. "I've always thought you were a better match."

For a moment, James' playful face fell, and a look that Edward could not recognize flashed across his face – melancholy? Regret?

But in an instant James' face regained its previous attitude. He shrugged lightly. "All the same, Edward, it's you she wants, therefore, and more importantly, it's what Mr. Winters wants. There it is. We play the hand we've been dealt."

Edward turned his head away. _No point_, he thought bitterly. Trying to persuade James of the merits of true love over a socially and financially advantageous match would be like trying to teach a lion to fall in love with a lamb. It was beyond unrealistic – it was fantasy.

Silence settled between the two men and continued as the carriage rattled on through the increasingly quieter streets to their destination in Belgrave Square. When the carriage finally halted, Edward wasted no time exiting, then paused for a moment, looking up. The white exterior of the four-story Regency-style house appeared almost creamy in the soft yellow gaslight of the streetlamps. His grandfather had built this house fifty years before, when the area was newly developed, and it remained one of the finest addresses in London.

But Edward's only lingering affection for the grand terraced home, with its Greek columns and fanciful molded cornices, was in the memory of his mother. She had loved its refined elegance and its proximity to the excitement of London town. James had inherited her fondness for society; pitiably, he had not been blessed with her generous nature.

His breath made white puffs in the cold air as a jacketed manservant approached and bowed.

"Welcome back to Trefoil House, sir."

"Thank you," Edward replied, not bothering to wait for James as he headed into the brightly lit house. His gaze reflexively traveled upward to the elaborate molding over the doorway. He quickly picked out the wildflower for which the house was named, Birdsfoot Trefoil, nearly hidden among the more showy and dramatic roses and ivy that dominated the sculpture. He smiled. Simple, common Birdsfoot Trefoil had been his grandmother's favorite flower and his grandfather had surprised her by naming the house after it and instructing the architects, designers and artists to incorporate it wherever possible into the construction and design of the house. The yellow bloom, which grew untended in pastures and on roadsides, could be found in the custom hand-painted wallpaper of the breakfast room, in several of the carved mantles and even woven into the pattern of the rug in the drawing room.

Edward did not break his pace as he passed through the front hall and continued to the stairs.

"I'll take a tray in my room this evening, Lawrence," he called as he walked up the staircase.

"Very good, sir," was the reply. "Shall I draw you a bath?"

"No, thank you. I'll do it myself."

Later that evening, Edward stepped out of the bathroom adjacent to his bedroom, a robe of soft Egyptian cotton wrapped around his damp body, a towel of fine linen ruffling his hair dry. He crossed to the writing desk situated near the warmth of the hearth and looked over the three letters he had written before dinner, neatly addressed and awaiting hand delivery in the morning.

_Mr. Martin Darling_

_Barclays Bank_

_54 Lombard Street, London_

_Mr. John Withers, Esq._

_Withers and Leighton, Attorneys-at-Law_

_5 Appold Street, London_

_Mrs. Alice Hale_

_14 Margaretta Terrace, London_

He lifted his eyes from the letters, slung the towel around his neck and stared into the crackling fire. After a moment, he turned, removed the robe and towel, allowing the warmth of the fire to dry the last water droplets from his body, then moved to the bed and slipped tiredly between the sheets.

**-xxx-**

Mrs. Alice Hale's smiling face was as bright as the daylight streaming in her sitting room windows as she stood to greet her cousin the next morning.

"Mm!" she exclaimed squeezing him tightly. "It's so good to see you, Edward! I wasn't expecting you until dinner tomorrow night at mother and father's, so I was surprised to get your note this morning. How are you?"

Her face was cautiously concerned. She didn't want to pry – that hadn't gone well when she was visiting Wrenfield Hall – but now he had come to her.

Edward sat down on a sleek emerald green settee. Alice's impeccable taste was apparent in every corner of this fashionable room, from the Japanese sculpture on the mantle to the vibrant painted tangle of chrysanthemums, leaves and vines spreading over the walls.

"That's very interesting wallpaper, Alice," Edward observed, amused that it had been changed yet again.

"Isn't it?" Alice enthused. "It's by William Morris – you've heard of him, surely. He has such a divine aesthetic, I simply _adore_ his work. He has some _really_ lovely tiles and I almost have Jasper convinced that we need to retile the fireplace surround in our room with this gorgeous hand painted blue – "

Alice suddenly stopped, giving Edward a mock glare. "Edward! You're laughing at me! You don't care about my wallpaper at all! That's very rude, you know," she said, stifling a smile.

Edward let his laughter escape. "Oh, Alice. You are just too much fun to tease!"

Alice tsked and gave Edward as reproving a look as she could manage.

"Well, anyway," she playfully huffed. Then her face turned serious. "Edward, really. How are you?"

Edward took a breath and pinched the bridge of his nose, then rubbed his eyes. "I find myself in a very difficult spot, Alice and I don't know what to do. I just need a listening ear."

For the next hour Alice sat quietly and listened as Edward animatedly recounted his first meetings with Bella, how their friendship developed, what he felt for her now and the way things had been left between them. He stopped and stonily stared out the window as his enthusiasm faded. Turning back to Alice, Edward shifted into an explanation of James's financial problems and his insistence that he marry Tanya as the solution. His gaze shifted to her feet as he admitted that he would almost certainly be compelled to do so but he met her eye when he assured her that, despite James' blackmail, Edward had done nothing to disgrace the family name and was still a gentleman in every sense.

Alice was still for a moment when Edward ceased speaking.

"So it all comes down to money," she said slowly.

"Well, mostly," sighed Edward. "I am hopeful that I can secure the money another way other than a loan from Mr. Winters. I have an appointment with my banker tomorrow and I believe that obstacle can be overcome. But there's more to it. The money to get the balloon factory established is one thing, but for the enterprise to succeed, he needs the government contracts. Unfortunately, Mr. Winters is the key here, too. Commodore Armstrong made it quite clear how much pull Mr. Winters has at the Admiralty. The contract can't be secured without his influence."

Alice looked simultaneously incredulous and furious. "So James is willing to sacrifice the life-long happiness of two people – his own _brother_ being one of them – to line his pockets?" She pursed her lips and looked murderously at the ceiling.

"Well, to be fair, I haven't told James exactly why I don't want to marry Tanya. I rather feel it would be casting pearls before swine. But I don't believe it would matter in the least to him. It seems that James ceased caring about others a long time ago."

Alice looked into Edward's eyes, sensing the pain that lay behind them.

"Edward, I wish I had a magic wand to fix this horrible mess, and I promise, if I think of any solutions, I will run to Trefoil House in the middle of the night myself to tell you. I like Bella very, very much and there's nothing I would like more than to welcome her into our family."

Edward smiled sadly. "Me too, Alice."

**-xxx-**

Edward slowly climbed the stairs to his room and with relief shut the door behind him. The night had worn him out. Five hours at the Winters' house was nearly enough to make him gouge his own eyes out and pour hot wax in his ears. For over two hours at dinner, he listened to Mrs. Winters and her daughters dissect every social event of the last month, every faux pas committed by their peers, and every gown observed, either envied or judged hideous. Following dinner, the men had retired to the billiard room for scotch and cigars and he listened to Mr. Winters brag about his latest business dealings, how much money he made from his last shipment of textiles from India and how little he could get away with paying the natives who worked in his factories there.

When they rejoined the ladies in the parlor for cards, he was subjected to an endless commentary on the seemingly hundreds of objets d'art crowded onto every wall and surface by Mrs. Winters. Every cherub figurine or silver vase required an explanation of its origin and the price paid. He finally managed to amuse himself by envisioning the numerous ways a person might meet an untimely end in a room such as this – a shelf overloaded with bric-a-brac collapsing on one's head, perhaps, or a gold-edged hand painted pink and violet teacup falling to the floor and one shard flying back up to pierce the eye straight to the brain. Death by teacup. It seemed increasingly appealing to Edward.

In the refuge of his room, Edward stretched out on the bed. He missed Bella so badly he ached. He longed to escape to her small room and spend the evening debating the merits of Darwin's theory of evolution and whether it precluded the existence of a supreme being, or play a lighthearted round of cards while sharing a sweet roll.

He missed her physical presence too, intensely. He had never felt such heart-pounding desire for anyone while simultaneously being as comfortable with her as with his own self. It was as if they had begun to merge into one entity, yet with distinct differences. He felt he was missing the other half of himself.

Suddenly he found himself at his writing desk, putting pen to paper and pouring out his heart and soul, his love, his passion, his friendship and his desire for her.

"_All the love I have to give is yours." _he ended._ "I miss you terribly. Love, Edward."_

He sealed the letter and set it down. He would send it by special messenger tomorrow, with strict instructions to go to the back entrance and hand deliver it to Bella herself.

His mind somewhat eased, he finally slept.

**-xxx-**

"Are you very certain?" Edward asked the man across the desk. His face was as still as stone while he digested the information.

"I'm very sorry, Lord Masen," said Mr. Darling, the Masen family's longtime liaison at Barclay's Bank. "Wrenfield Hall is stable, to be sure, but the way it's currently being managed, its' worth is not nearly enough to secure a loan the size of which you are asking."

Mr. Darling picked up a piece of paper and studied it for a moment.

"What about the forests? With as much wooded acreage as you have you could make a small fortune in timber if you authorized clearing the majority of it. It wouldn't be enough alone for what you are requesting here, but it might be enough to convince the bank officers that you are serious about changing the management system of the estate and you just may get the loan."

Edward shook his head. "Never. Do you realize how little of England is still wooded? Shipbuilding took an enormous toll on the forests. If they're not protected, we could lose them completely."

Mr. Darling nodded his head. "And the farmland? Tenant farming is no way to make money anymore. Now if you could consolidate the farms under one management system, change to one crop, you could make far more money than you are now. Allowing each farmer to live on the land and grow crops of their own choosing is terribly inefficient."

Edward shook his head. "Out of the question," he said shortly. "Some of those families have been there as long as our family has. I will not turn them out."

Mr. Darling stopped shuffling the papers in front of him for a moment. He looked at Edward closely.

"You're very much like your father, Lord Masen. At the risk of sounding patronizing, may I say that I think he'd be proud of you."

Edward gave Mr. Darling a resigned smile.

"Thank you." And he rose to leave.

**So there it is. Can you handle the filler? I hope so, because there's at least one more chapter of it before we can move on.**


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**I'm here! I'm alive! I made it through the holidays, barely, and through the first trimester of my fifth and final pregnancy (fifth pregnancy in six years, might I add – my other kids are 1, 2, 4 and 5). That's my excuse for everything these days – nausea and exhaustion. But, I'm back at the laptop and you can expect more regular updates from now on. It's good for me to have something to work on that isn't related to diapers, kindergarten field trips, Legos or Dora the Explorer. Thanks for encouraging me in this endeavor – you all reading this means a lot to me. **

**Chapter Sixteen**

Bella's small room was dark as coal the moment she extinguished her lamp. Heavy clouds had stretched across the sky all day and when the night came they completely obscured the stars and moon that lay beyond. She breathed an exhausted sigh and sunk her head to the pillow, letting her eyes close heavily before she began her nighttime routine of replaying her favorite times with Edward…the first brush of fingers in the kitchen, sharing the picnic on the rock, the night she crept into his room to declare herself to him…

Her mind drifted drowsily between the memories and she began to slip into sleep when a sound jolted her awake.

_Knock, knock_ came the soft sound from her door.

Bella sat up, alert, her heart pounding. In an instant, she was at the door, pulling it open.

Lizzie's wide eyes and excited face, lit by the lamp in her hand, greeted her.

"Oh…" Bella's voice faltered.

"Did I wake you?" Lizzie whispered, and then she noticed that Bella's face had fallen. "Are you alright? Were you expecting someone else?"

Realization dawned on Lizzie's face. "Oh…oh, I'm sorry Bella, you were hoping it would be him…"

Bella waved her hand dismissively and then pulled her friend in the door, closing it behind her.

"Never mind. I really don't expect him back for some time yet. The knock, it just…well, it just startled me and reminded me, all at once. I'm fine. Please, sit down," she said, indicating the bed.

Lizzie set down her lamp and the two young women curled up on the small bed. Bella handed Lizzie the faded quilt while she slipped back under her other covers, shivering for a moment as she regained her warmth.

"So?" Bella prompted.

Lizzie attempted to look serious for a moment, but a small smile crept over her face until she was grinning broadly.

"He asked me!" she squealed in a whisper. "Bobby asked me, tonight! We went for a quick walk after dinner and he got down on one knee and said 'Lizzie, you're the best girl I've ever known and I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Will you marry me?'"

She sighed. "It was glorious!"

Bella sprang up from her reclining position and threw her arms around her friend. "How wonderful, Lizzie! Congratulations! I'm so happy for you!"

The two girls dissolved into a pile of hugs and squeals, chattering on for the next ten minutes about when the wedding would take place, the piece of lace handed down from Lizzie's grandmother that she would be incorporating into her dress and how thrilled her mother would be.

"That's every mother's dream, isn't it?" said Lizzie. "To see her daughter happily married to a good man who loves her?"

"Of course," smiled Bella, trying to hide the hint of sadness she felt.

"Oh, what is wrong with me!" cried Lizzie. "I'm being so insensitive! Here I am, going on about my wedding and my mother and I'm not even thinking about you!"

"Really, Lizzie, I'm fine," Bella reassured her. "I'm so, so thrilled for you. You deserve every bit of happiness that comes your way and I don't begrudge you one bit. My happy ending is coming, I can feel it."

"Have you heard from him?" Lizzie asked quietly.

"No. No, but it's not yet been a week so, really. I don't expect anything. He's busy…"

It was all true, but still…Bella missed him so much she ached.

"He'll write," said Lizzie, patting Bella's blanketed knee.

Bella nodded in agreement, but she was silent.

After a moment Bella cleared her throat. "Tell me more about what you are thinking for a dress. I want to help, if you'll let me. I'm quite good with a needle!"

Lizzie shifted excitedly on the bed. "Well, of course I can't afford a dress just for the wedding, you know, so it will need to be something I can wear again. There is some lovely blue poplin at Bennett's in the village. I think the lace could be used for the front of the bodice, like so," said Lizzie, making hand motions on her torso.

Bella bobbed her head in agreement. "Yes, I saw that fabric, with the little white flowers? So pretty! Did you see that new blue ribbon that came in at the same time? It's just a shade off, so the contrast would be so nice…"

And the two young women, excited for the future, chattered far into the night.

-xxx-

"Bella, there's a messenger for you at the back door."

The excited face of the scullery maid peeked around the door frame into the staff dining room where much of the staff was taking their noon meal.

Bella's face registered surprise, then she composed herself as the faces that lined the long table swung en masse to look at her curiously.

"Thank you, Kate," said Bella quietly, as she removed the napkin from her lap, laid it carefully to the side of her plate of stewed beef and potatoes. Her chair scraped through the sudden silence as she stood.

"It's probably a Sunday dinner invitation to the Webber's," Bella mumbled to her dining companions, who continued to watch her expectantly.

"Of course," Lizzie agreed loudly. "Reverend and Mrs. Webber, certainly."

"I don't think so," Kate said, her eyes wide. "It's a letter _and_ a package. From London, I expect. The envelope is fine quality and the label on the package says Hatchards Booksellers, London. A little of the brown wrapping paper tore off and the label is showing underneath- "

"Thank you, Kate," Bella cut her off as she moved to the door. "From my…cousin…then, I expect…"

"I didn't know you had a cousin in London," Kate's chatter continued as she trailed after Bella, who was briskly making her way down the hall. The scullery maid's little feet made a quick _tap-tap-tap_ as she followed. "London seems like it would be rather scary but quite thrilling, too, don't you think? I'd love to have a package sent from London. I would feel so grown-up! Of course, I'd rather the label on my package be from a hat shop or a dressmaker, not a bookshop, but a bookshop would do, if that's all you could get. Beggars can't be choosers and all that!"

"Mm-hm," murmured Bella, noncommittally.

"I told the messenger I would take the letter and package to you but he insisted he deliver it straight to you, by order of the sender. Your cousin must have sent some important books, I expect! Or maybe there's something in the letter that is important…oh! how fun for you, Bella! You're a lucky girl!"

Bella continued to look straight ahead, willing the flush in her cheeks to dissipate.

The young man who stood just inside the door nodded his head slightly at Bella as she approached.

"Ma'am," he said respectfully, as he handed her the brown package, a cream colored envelope secured under the string that was tied tightly around it.

He replaced his hat and touched his hand to its brim briefly as he turned to go.

"Wait!" called Bella. "Wait a moment. I haven't any money on me but if you would stay a moment, I'll get some from my room for your trouble."

"No need, ma'am," he said with a smile. "It's all been taken care of."

"Oh. Well, thank you, then."

Bella stood for a moment after the door clicked shut, gripping the package tightly. It was just the right size to hug to her chest, but Kate's eager eyes made her refrain from any displays of that sort.

"Aren't you going to open it?" Kate asked excitedly. "I mean, it's only books, but still, it's a _package_. From _London!_"

"I haven't time now," Bella said in an offhand tone. "I'll just bring them up to my room and have a look later." And she turned and left a disappointed Kate in the hallway alone.

Several minutes later, Bella stood alone in her room, hesitating for only a moment before tearing into the package. The brown wrapping fell away to reveal a flat rectangular box and a thick book bound in sumptuous dark brown leather with gilded pages and gilt lettering on the spine.

_The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ read the title.

A sound somewhere between a laugh and a cry escaped from Bella's lips as she pressed a trembling hand to her mouth to quiet herself. Her own book. Hers.

Shakily, she opened the front cover of the book. She flipped carefully past the exquisite, hand marbled end paper to the title page.

"_To my dearest Bella. Like the Bard, you have no equal. My heart is yours. Edward."_

Bella's work-worn fingers traced the words, feeling Edward's love radiate through the ink on the page. She carefully closed the book and then did what she had felt the urge to do since she first laid hands on the package in the downstairs hall. She hugged the book. Her arms wrapped completely around it, circling back onto herself, her head tucked down and resting on the top edges. She breathed in the smell of the leather and ink and thought how, for the rest of her life, this smell would be the smell of Edward, of love, of passion for both body and mind, how she would never again smell a newly bound book without thinking of her Edward.

But more than anything, Bella felt relief. The past week without Edward had been excruciating. She missed him immensely, more than she ever thought she could. She was anxious, lonely and worried. She worried that the glitter of London, the wiles of Miss Winters, the social whirlwind of society, would all entice Edward away from Wrenfield Hall for good and she would be left behind, a fool with cracked hands in an apron and cap. But then, she would feel ashamed, ashamed for imagining Edward to be the kind of man who would be swayed by such things, for thinking him less principled than he was.

Still, her insecurities would erupt, unbidden, in the dark of night when she missed him so terribly, or when she would catch a glimpse of herself in a mirror, her face red from carrying yet another hod of coal or when she straightened her aching back and knees from an hour of scrubbing the floor.

The book brought her back to reality – the reality that Edward loved her and wanted her. The reality that he was in London only to clear the path for their eventual union. She closed her eyes and again breathed in the smell of the book and smiled.

After a moment, she turned her attention to the small, flat box that had accompanied the book. A narrow, navy blue ribbon encircled it and a small card was tucked under the bow. Opening the thick linen card, Bella was surprised to see a feminine hand she didn't recognize.

"_Edward agreed that I might send a small token of friendship. I hope we shall see each other soon and that all is well at Wrenfield Hall. I think of you often here in London."_

"_Your friend, Alice Hale"_

Bella shook her head in wonder and lifted up the box top. Inside lay a pair of fine leather wrist-length gloves, a deep tan color and as soft and supple as anything Bella had ever touched. They were simple but finely made, with careful hand stitching. Nestled next to the gloves were several hair ribbons in shades of blue. A small note accompanied the ribbons – _"Edward says you are lovely in blue."_

Tears sprang to Bella's eyes. Alice's gesture was overwhelming and a clear signal - _I understand the situation – I accept you. I welcome you. _It was more than Bella could have ever hoped for.

Finally, Bella held the letter from Edward in her hands. For a moment she considered waiting until evening to read the letter – the meal hour was surely over and she would be missed if she did not return soon – but she dismissed that thought in an instant. Her Edward's words lay in her hands at that moment and she was not going to set them aside. The silver in the breakfast room would have to wait for its polish.

For ten minutes, Bella read Edward's letter, with its descriptions of London and Trefoil House, his admission of having dinner with Tanya and her family (which wrenched at her gut, but his assurances that he had a dreadful evening and thought only of her assuaged her anxiety somewhat), passages of how he ached for her, mind, body and soul, how he longed for their reunification and how he was working hard to ensure their future together. When she was done, she tucked the epistle into the volume of Shakespeare. She straightened her clothes, splashed a little water on her face from the pitcher by the basin, and returned to work as a housemaid in the great country estate of Lord Edward Masen.

-xxx-

The evening had long been cold and dark when Edward and James emerged from Trefoil House and stepped into the waiting carriage. Dark came early this time of year and not for the first time that night Edward found himself wishing he was at home, at Wrenfield Hall, tucked comfortably into a chair by the fire in the front drawing room. Winter evenings were not a time for going out, in Edward's mind. They were a time for hot drinks and good books, chess games and letter writing. He had the views of a crotchety old man in this regard, he knew it and didn't care. The idea of dressing in ones stiffest clothes and getting into a freezing carriage to bump along through cold, dark streets to eat fussy food in the company of vapid socialites and boorish men repelled him. In the fantasies of his mind, he was at home, Bella by his side in the drawing room, engaging him in a lively debate or perhaps beating him at cribbage, or even sitting quietly, working on her needlepoint while he read aloud to her.

Instead, he was going to his third formal dinner of the week. The saving grace of this dinner was that it was to his Aunt Esme and Uncle Carlisle's home that he and James were headed. If it weren't for the stress of the endless meetings and social obligations of London, the worry of how he would ensure his future with Bella and the loneliness he felt, he would be very much looking forward to an evening with his family.

As the carriage jostled along, he focused his thoughts on the meeting with his lawyer he had scheduled for tomorrow. It was his last best hope… With no possibility of securing a loan for James' monetary needs, a legal solution was the only way out.

Eventually the carriage rolled to a stop in front of Aldwych House, the brothers disembarked and made their way in, greeted warmly by their aunt and uncle.

A few minutes in front of the roaring fire, drink in hand, trading good natured jabs with Emmett, and Edward's foul mood was forgotten.

"It's been so long since we've seen you in London, it's hard to believe you even remember how to behave in proper company," Emmett joked.

"Really, Emmett, I've met badgers with better manners than you," Edward volleyed back. "If Rose didn't keep you in line, you'd be about as refined as a bear."

Rosalie raised an eyebrow.

"He does keep me awfully busy, I'll agree," she remarked dryly. "But I couldn't let all of Esme's hard work on him go to waste, just because he's an overgrown child." She gave Emmett a sly look then held back a smile as he winked openly at her.

The door opened and a girl in a cap and apron stepped in.

"Dinner is served," she announced.

"Lovely, thank you Emmeline," said Esme. She rose and exited the room, her family following behind.

The table in the dining room was beautifully set with polished silver, glittering crystal and bowls of fresh fruit and flowers. The tall taper candles set in the center of the massive round table reflected light off of the grand chandelier that hung over the table.

While Aldwych House was nowhere near as grand as Trefoil House or Wrenfield Hall, it was a lovely and well cared for home. Esme had impeccable style and Carlisle was a gentleman of reasonable means who had carefully managed his estate.

"I haven't seen that painting for some time, Uncle Carlisle," said Edward, taking his seat opposite Carlisle.

"Ah, yes, we just moved it from the drawing room recently," said Carlisle, who turned to look at the portrait of a gentleman, painted nearly fifty years earlier. "It wasn't hung in a very good spot there. We like it better in here."

"I've always liked that portrait of grandfather," said Alice with a smile. "You look so much like him, Edward! The shape of your face, your eyes…I miss him a little sometimes when I see you."

James raised his eyes and gave Edward an easy smile.

"You always have taken after our mother's side of the family more than our father's. Wouldn't you agree?"

Edward's jovial mood vanished. "I suppose you're right," he said, his voice quiet and icy.

Carlisle watched the brothers for a moment. "I would say Edward is quite a mix of Cullen and Masen. I'd like to raise a glass to the two families: to the Cullens and Masens. May their good names be honored forever."

The party raised their glasses in concert, and Alice glanced back to Edward, feeling confused but wishing to send some telepathic message of support. Whatever James was communicating to her favorite cousin, it bothered him and she didn't like it.

-xxx-

Edward was ushered into his barrister's office by a bespectacled assistant who shut the door quietly behind him.

"Lord Masen," boomed the barrel of a man who was coming toward him from around the large oak desk. "It's a pleasure to see you again. It's been some time now, hasn't it?"

"Likewise, Withers," said Edward, accepting the outstretched hand shaking it firmly. "How is your family?"

"Doing much better, thank you. Scarlet fever is a miserable thing but Josephine pulled through amazingly well. She's back at school now and happy, thank the good Lord. Thank you again for the letter you sent. Don't tell her I said this, but she slept with it under her pillow for a week. She may be only ten but I think you have quite an admirer on your hands."

Withers chuckled as he indicated Edward should sit.

Edward smiled. "Send her my greetings – if you don't think it would give her any false ideas."

Both men laughed.

"What can I help you with here today, Lord Masen? You indicated it was a matter of delicacy."

Edward shifted in his chair and stared out the window for a moment before facing Withers again.

"Everything I tell you is confidential, correct?"

"Of course," replied Withers.

"It's a rather complicated issue," said Edward, "but let me start with the largest piece of information you need, information I myself was only made aware of a year ago."

Edward paused again.

"I am not the son of the late Lord Anthony Masen."

**Did you all guess it? Was it obvious that this was what James was holding over his head? I know some of you had figured it out, but I'm curious if this actually came as a surprise to anyone. Let me know!**


	17. Chapter Seventeen

*****THANK YOU ALL FOR PUTTING UP WITH MY TECHNOLOGICAL INCOMPETENCE*****

**Another chapter! For real! This one is quite short, but I finished writing it super quick (it had been planned out in my head for months) so I thought I'd share. It's just a lot of talk, talk, talk, but it answers a lot of questions about Edward's birth, etc. Hope it's not too boring…like I said about Chapter Fifteen, just picture Edward (however you picture Edward ****) and everything should be ok. **

**And a big SORRY to everyone who tried to post reviews and couldn't because FF said they had already reviewed the chapter. Late last night I figured out the problem – when I posted this last chapter I accidentally deleted Chapter One completely (yes, I'm kind of an idiot – and a huge THANKS to my husband, who didn't even complain when I woke him up at 1 a.m. in a panic, asking him to go downstairs to his office to find the original file with Chapter One on his computer because it never made it on to my new laptop. He literally mumbled "for the readers…" when he came back upstairs and crawled back into bed. I KNOW! What a guy.). Anyway, I had to put chapters one and two together in the same chapter to keep everything in order, but then that re-numbered all of the chapters, so the FF website sees Chapter Sixteen as Chapter Fifteen right now, so if you left a review for Chapter Fifteen, you couldn't review Sixteen. Blah, blah, blah, whatever, too much explanation to say I don't know what I'm doing and I'm hoping to fix it and that I don't make it worse when I do. We'll see!**

**Chapter Seventeen**

John Withers leaned back in his chair and sighed. All was silent in the room, save the ticking of the walnut wood clock on the wall.

"I see," said Withers finally. "And how did you discover this?"

"Last spring I found these in a hidden compartment in my father's desk."

Edward placed a small bundle of letters on Withers' desk.

Withers leaned forward and slid the packet towards him, selecting the top document and unfolding it. He was quiet while he read, then looked up.

"There is no father listed on this birth certificate," Withers stated. "You were born in France?"

"I've always known that I was born in France, that was no surprise. I was, of course, shocked that my father was not on the birth certificate. I was further confused by the next document," indicating the next paper Withers had picked up and was unfolding.

"Your parents' certificate of marriage…dated three months after your birth. Ah, I see."

"Do you? I admit none of this made any sense to me until I read this third paper – the letter."

Withers unfolded the slightly yellowed paper carefully and read.

_Dearest Anthony,_

_On this, the first anniversary of our marriage, I take a moment to compose my thoughts so you might always know, without a doubt, how very much I love you. Every day that I awake next to you, I thank Divine Providence for you in my life. You have made me happier and my life more complete than I thought possible in my darkest hours last year._

_I had resigned myself to a life with Aunt Cornelia and my new son in her chateau. Since I had refused to leave Edward with the nuns as we had planned, she had agreed to let me continue living with her, likely never returning to England. But you know I could never have left my sweet baby. From the moment he was born, he was mine, regardless of the circumstances under which he came into this world. I loved him more than I ever knew I could and I knew I would sacrifice all that my life had been and forge a new one._

_That day I met you walking in the wood was the first time I had felt any sort of regret for my decision. If I had been an innocent girl, unsullied by her foolish choices and their consequences, I would have been thrilled by what the future might hold for us. But the reality was I was a fallen woman, with the sweet, pink cheeked evidence waiting for me back at home with Aunt Cornelia. My heart was breaking, but I resolved to tell you immediately when we next met._

_I don't know if you understood the depth of my astonishment when you said it didn't matter to you. And the moment I first saw you with Edward, I knew we were a family._

_Dearest love, I thank you. You have loved me with more tenderness than I deserve and you love our son more than I could have ever dreamed. You are the father he was always meant to have._

_At the close of our first year together, I offer you a promise of my never-ending love and fidelity. You and Edward are the whole world to me. I love you._

_Always and always,_

_Elizabeth_

Withers put down the letter and looked at Edward.

"They returned to England two years later, when I was just three. Or perhaps I was actually a little older and they 'adjusted' my age to protect us all from tongue wagging. I don't know…the dates are all a little unclear at this point, but the story we grew up with, and the one I believe most everyone was told, is that my mother went to study in Grenoble and live with Aunt Cornelia, and there she met my father, who was taking a year traveling the continent. They met and fell in love immediately, marrying within a month. I was supposedly born nine months later, a big baby, I was always told."

Edward gave a short laugh. "According to this birth certificate, I'm actually six months older than I always believed."

Withers nodded thoughtfully.

"Have you any idea who your real father is?"

"No. I don't suppose it matters. My father is the man who raised me. It's enough for me."

Withers nodded again. "And James…is he aware of this?"

Edward laughed, bitterly, this time. "Oh yes. Yes, James arrived unexpectedly at Wrenfield Hall one day shortly after I had found the papers. I had just stepped out and the papers were on my desk. Folded, of course and under other papers, but still, James apparently has no qualms about rifling through my desk. He discovered them and was...bothered, you might say. True, he has never called me a bastard outright, and he claimed he was happy to let me keep the title and Wrenfield Hall. Since I don't believe I was ever legally adopted by my father, I have no legal right to any of it. It's an entailment, you know – passed from oldest son to oldest son."

"But I know it's what my father wanted - for me to inherit Wrenfield Hall. He spoke of it all my life. He tutored me in the ways of managing the estate, took me out with him when he visited the tenants, ensured that I was fully acquainted with the financial operations, made sure I understood the sanctity of the forests, that I truly comprehended the responsibility of Wrenfield Hall. He tried to involve James as well, but my brother never cared for any of it."

"Quite frankly, I was amazed that James was willing to let the matter go, once he knew the truth of it. But he has always cared more for London and Trefoil House than Wrenfield Hall. I think he would like the title, but I believe – or want to believe – that there is still some of the James from years ago buried deep in him. I think he doesn't want to make this public, to save our mother's reputation. He loved her."

Edward took a deep breath and continued.

"About a year ago, James approached me with a plan to convert an old woolen mill to an aeronautical balloon factory. He had become interested in them some years ago and he felt that now was the right time to begin production and try to get a contract from the government. I told him I supported his efforts but that I was not interested in partnering with him. I have responsibilities enough at Wrenfield Hall. But James claimed I was needed for this to work. Neither one of us have the liquid capital needed to invest in materials and equipment, nor do we have the necessary contacts with the government."

Edward's face tightened.

"But an old family acquaintance does. Charles Winters, do you know him?"

Withers grimaced. "I have known Winters for years. We were together at Ashby School but since he's made his fortune he hasn't deigned to speak to me."

"Not that I mind, really," he added, under his breath.

Edward stifled a smile. "Yes, well, as it turns out, Winters' daughter, Tanya, has a fondness for me, rather like your Josephine. Only she's serious about it, and she is used to getting her every desire. James laid out the plan for me – show a little interest in Tanya, spend some time with her. A happy Tanya is a happy – and cooperative – Mr. Winters, and James would use the time to build a relationship with Mr. Winters. I wasn't happy about it, but I didn't see what the harm could be in the beginning. I was otherwise completely unattached and Miss Winters is beautiful and can be quite charming. I thought – and still think – that James' business plan is sound and will likely benefit Mr. Winters soon enough."

"And, of course, James threatened to expose me and take Wrenfield Hall if I didn't play along. That was the biggest…inducement…to my cooperation. Though of course it is really blackmail."

"But now it's gotten completely out of hand!" Edward said in frustration, his voice rising. "Mr. Winters dragged his feet on the loan and the contract was a long time in coming. The longer it took, the more attached Tanya became to me and the more James became convinced she was an essential part of ensuring Mr. Winters' help."

"I would have told him to go to hell months ago, but I'm trapped. He's welcome to the title and whatever prestige goes with that, but if he gets his hands on Wrenfield Hall, I know exactly what he'll do. He'll rape the ancient forests for their timber, remove the tenant farmers whose families have lived there as long as our family has, plant the same high yield crops year after year, destroying the soil and squeezing every last drop of money out of the land."

"And our mother – our mother's good name…though I can't believe he would expose her. But I just don't know! I don't know what to expect from him anymore!"

"And there's more…there's someone else now…"

"Oh…I see," said Withers, leaning forward with a look of understanding. He waited for a few moments as Edward collected his thoughts.

"I love her. I want to marry her. But James is certain that marriage to Tanya is the only way to ensure Mr. Winters' continued support."

Withers waited another moment. "So, the choice is between marriage to Tanya, ensuring the success of James' business venture and the protection of both Wrenfield Hall, the livelihood of the families who live there and your mother's reputation, or marriage to the woman you truly love, sacrificing your family's centuries old estate to eventual ruin by James."

Edward pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes. "Yes. That's about it, I suppose," he said bitterly.

"Any possibility of obtaining a loan for James on your own?"

Edward shook his head. "I've already exhausted that avenue. The bank refuses."

"And your Uncle Carlisle Cullen? He's a good man who might step in…"

Another shake of the head. "No. I know Carlisle doesn't have that kind of money. And besides, I have no desire to expose my mother's past mistake to her brother. I'd prefer his memory of her remain as it is."

"So my question for you is this, Withers. Is there any way I can protect Wrenfield Hall before I defy James and turn it over to him. He can have the title and the house, the silver and the paintings. But I need to protect the families who live there. Can I give them an unbreakable lifetime lease to the land? Or sell them pieces at a price they can afford?"

"And what about the forests? Can I put them in a trust that will prohibit any significant cutting? Any sort of other protections for them?"

Withers looked concerned. "It's been some time since I last reviewed the entailment, but what I can remember doesn't give me much hope. The terms are tight…the land is passed, _intact_, from oldest son to oldest son. I'm quite sure leases and trusts would violate that."

Edward looked pale.

"But listen, Lord Masen, I'll look into it. Give me a few days to see what I can come up with. I'm not promising anything. I tell you, it doesn't look good to me," he said with a regretful shake of his head.

Edward stared blankly for a moment, then stood.

"Thank you so much, Withers. Please contact me as soon as you have anything to report, anything at all. This is…more important to me than I can express."

"I will do my utmost, you have my word," said Withers, also standing.

The two men shook hands solemnly and Edward left the room.

**In case anyone is having a hard time believing that Edward isn't more curious about his biological father, believe it or not, not every adopted child wants to know. My father was adopted and he never felt a strong drive to discover his birth parents. He always said he was happy with the parents he had. I think I might feel differently, but who knows.**

**Also, if you guys are not yet watching Downton Abbey, YOU SHOULD BE. For those in the U.S., it's on PBS right now, Masterpiece Theatre (or Masterpiece Classics, maybe). The first installment was on Sunday night and it's a four-part series. I know you can find episodes online if you're not in the U.S. or if you want to watch the first episode (which you SHOULD). I was kind of surprised to find that the story line revolves around breaking an entailment to a large English estate. I didn't realize that was what it would be about but it's been so fun to watch and the costumes, sets, food and everything are just gorgeous! It's set about 35 years after Wrenfield Hall, but it will still give you an idea of what I am picturing.**


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**It's a short one, but it was the right place to end it, so there it is. Hope you like it! Let me know what you think! (Kind of excited to maybe break 300 reviews with this chapter...yes, a bit pathetic. Humor me.)**

* * *

Chapter 18

* * *

Edward fidgeted nervously with his cravat, adjusting it to loosen his collar slightly. He sat, tapping his fingers on his knees until he could stand it no more and he stood, beginning to pace.

The door clicked open and a footman entered.

"Mr. John Withers," he announced, and retreated.

Edward walked to the door in long strides to greet his guest. The three days that had passed since he visited his attorney in his office had been tortuous and he was anxious to know what Withers had to share.

"Withers, thank you for coming. Please sit. Can I offer you something?"

The man shook his head. "No, no, thank you. Let's just get right to it."

Edward sat, feeling slightly sick.

Withers looked him full in the face. "It's no good. I've spent the last three days exploring every possible way of protecting Wrenfield Hall, I've consulted with colleagues, I've had my staff looking through law books as old as Westminster Abbey – it just can't be done. It's all or nothing. It cannot be broken up, leased or put into any sort of trust with any conditions at all. And Edward – since your father never adopted you, James has every right to claim it as his own. He is, for all legal purposes, Lord Masen."

Edward sat stock still in his chair. His eyes were vacant and dull when he finally turned to Withers.

"I see. Thank you for your time and effort." He stood.

Withers stood as well. "Lord Masen –" Withers looked pained. "I'm – I'm so sorry. About all of this, especially for the hard choices you'll be making. Please pardon me for saying this, but it's James who's being the bastard here. You are so, so very much like your father. He'd be proud of you."

Edward nodded automatically and offered his hand to his barrister. "Lawrence will see you out."

The moment the door closed, Edward placed both hands on a solid mahogany table for support, his head dropping as he concentrated on his breathing.

_Bella, Bella, Bella…_echoed in his head.

He could handle not being Lord Masen. He knew he would survive if he was turned out of Wrenfield Hall, penniless. He was not without brains and the capacity for hard work. His cousins would help him and he and Bella could forge a new life together, a small house, children, a job. People had jobs. Edward was sure he could train for something and provide for a family.

But the estate!

From his earliest memories, Edward knew he was responsible for all that his ancestors had protected through the years. Far more than the jewels and silver, though, were the lives of the tenants and the near-sacred land. It was in his blood as surely as if he had been born of Anthony Masen.

The door clicked open again and James entered.

"I just saw Withers leaving. Everything alright?" he asked lightly. Getting no response, James pushed on.

"We're getting a game of cards on for this evening at Alastair Clough's. He's a bit of a bore but David Chase-Saxby will be there and he's always fun. Care to be the fourth? I can ask Ian Richardson if you're not up to it, you look a little peaked."

James fixed him with a quizzical look. Edward did not look up. "Ah. Well, yes, early to bed then, perhaps?"

James placed a friendly hand on Edward's shoulder.

In an instant, Edward straightened, knocking it off forcefully. James stepped back, surprised.

Edward took a step toward him. "Tell me James, what would you do if I gave it all up? If I said 'alright, I've had it with this balloon and Tanya business, you let me live my life and you can have Wrenfield Hall and all that goes with it.' How would you manage?"

James went white and tried to recover himself.

"I…well, I suppose I would have to get straight to the business of making Wrenfield Hall work for me, enough so that I could get the factory up and running. You really manage it quite inefficiently. Tenant farming is no way to make a good profit, and the forests are simply teeming with untapped riches…"

"But WHY?" roared Edward with the force of a lion. "WHY, dammit? What is so damned important about balloons, this factory that you would ruin centuries of our family's work for some extra pocket money for you? You have enough to live on James! I know what Father left you! This house is paid for! What, for God's sake, do you need more for?"

Edward continued in his fury, advancing toward James who was slowly walking backwards away from his raging brother.

"I don't want this, James! I don't want to marry Tanya! I have other plans for my life, plans that do not include her! If you force this, James, you will be the ruin of my life and happiness. Do you understand this clearly?"

Edward had backed James into a corner, his eyes wild and furious. James shrank even further.

"Do you understand?" Edward raged, his hand at James' throat. "Do you?"

"I HAVE TO!" James screamed.

Edward stopped.

"I have to!" James repeated. "I have no choice Edward! This is not what I ever wanted to do to you. But I'm up against a wall. You're the one who doesn't understand what is going on here."

Edward shook his head and dropped his hand. "Then enlighten me, brother," he said through clenched teeth.

James stood still for a moment. "I need the money, Edward. I _need_ it." The desperation in his voice was raw.

Edward cocked his head at him, not comprehending what he was hearing.

"I'm in debt, badly. I have no more money left, I've mortgaged Trefoil House to the hilt, I have no one left I can borrow money from. The factory is my last, best hope to get myself out of this. If not, we lose Trefoil House. All of the family jewels and silver here, they'll be auctioned off like we are paupers, because that's what I'll be. I'll be completely ruined."

James looked at Edward, his eyes pleading for sympathy.

Edward was incredulous. "How?" was all he asked.

The younger Masen shifted uncomfortably and dropped his eyes. He opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Finally, he spoke.

"Gambling. And…and opium…"

Edward's eyes narrowed in disbelief.

"I've been off the opium for nearly a year now and I only ever gambled heavily when I was taking the drug. That's when I…lost it all. I always thought the next game would be when I would win it all back and things would start to turn around but my judgment was always clouded. I was reckless and careless…"

James sank into a nearby chair and dropped his head to his hands. "I never meant to do this, Edward," he whispered.

**-xxx-**

"Thank you again for a marvelous evening," said David Chase-Saxby cheerfully to his host as he took his hat and coat from the footman. "Next time you won't be so lucky, though, Clough. I expect to come out victor at the next game."

Alastair Clough gave a bland smile. "Perhaps coming out victor would be more thrilling if James would ever consent to higher stakes. Your brother is awfully cautious these days, Edward."

James gave a laugh as the party moved toward the front hall. "No, I'm perfectly satisfied with losing only two pounds, gentlemen."

Edward was quiet as he tipped his hat goodbye to his host as he exited the front door.

"No carriage this evening, gentlemen? You're welcome to share mine," said Chase-Saxby as he approached his coach.

"Thank you, but no," said Edward. "It's only a short walk to Trefoil House, we'll manage."

"Right then," replied Chase-Saxby, entering his carriage. "Cheerio!"

The evening was mild and the fresh air was a welcome change from the thick cloud of cigar smoke that had swirled around the men all evening. The brothers walked in silence for a block, then James spoke.

"Clough and Chase-Saxby and a handful of other friends – they're the only ones I've played cards with in the last year. Just gentlemen's games. You can take my word for it – or ask around if you need confirmation," he said quietly. "I've sworn off the other games, for good Edward."

Edward walked for another moment before he replied. "I hope you are being truthful, James."

James nodded as they passed under the orange-yellow glow of the gas street lamp. A hundred questions swirled in Edward's mind. How far in debt was James? To whom? For how long had he been gambling heavily? And the opium use – Edward knew that laudanum was sometimes used by his peers, and it was whispered in certain circles about those who took its use to the extreme. But he was having a hard time picturing his brother's use of the drug. Was it just casual laudanum use, or was he one of those pathetic creatures lamented in the pages of the newspaper, the hollow-eyed desperate men who lounged in opium dens found through dingy doorways in dark London alleyways?

Edward's train of thought was interrupted as they crossed the final street to Trefoil House. At the corner, two men in dark coats approached.

"Mr. Masen," called one in a thick Cockney accent. "A word, please."

James' walk slowed as he looked nervously at the two burly men. "Can I help you?" he asked, a note of panic in his voice.

"We hoped we'd see you this evening," said the second man. "We have a message for you from Mr. Chan."

The two men stepped threateningly close to the brothers. Edward could smell the cigarette smoke on them, mixed with a sweet smell he could not identify.

As quick as lightening, one of the men seized James' arm and twisted it painfully behind his back. Edward reacted and lurched toward his brother protectively but froze as he felt hard metal pushed against his ribs and heard the cock of a gun.

"Mr. Chan is running out of patience," the man hissed in James' ear. "He says this factory of yours had better be making a profit right quick or he'll find other ways of getting the money out of you."

James nodded, his eyes wide.

The man gave James a final shove and released him and the two big men disappeared into the night.

Stunned, James stared after them as Edward grabbed his arm and propelled him the last block home.

**-xxx-**

Edward stared blankly at the bowl of cream of asparagus soup, as if fascinated by its pale green shade and the dollop of crème fraiche that sat atop it, untouched. His hand rested on the table, the soupspoon lying uselessly beside it.

"Edward? What do you think?" Tanya's voice cut through his fog and his head lifted to meet her eyes.

"Hmm?" he asked, trying to recover himself, as he looked around the dinner table at Trefoil House. The table was full of family and friends for dinner.

Tanya gave him an affectionately exasperated look. "About a Christmas ball, darling! At Wrenfield Hall, next Saturday. I know it's short notice, but James thinks it's a grand plan and if the invitations are extended tomorrow we might still get a good crowd. I just think it would be so much fun to see your lovely home in its Christmas best. I assume your staff is up to the task of preparing for a ball…?"

Edward's brow furrowed. "Of course the staff is well able to put together a fine evening. That's not a question. But I don't see why…"

James smiled. "Oh come now, Edward! We'd have such fun! Why not?"

"It would be fun," added Esme. "Your mother and father used to give such divine parties! It's been ages since there was a ball at Wrenfield Hall. Let's do it! I'd love to help. Perhaps Alice and I could go ahead a bit early and help oversee the planning. Oh, please, Edward!"

Edward looked at his aunt, her hands clasped in front of her. Tanya and James could not sway him like his dear Aunt Esme could.

"Well…alright. Of course," he finally said.

"Wonderful!" cried Esme, and Tanya looked extremely satisfied.

Alice looked at him archly. "Are you sure, cousin?" she asked delicately.

"Yes, certainly," he said with a smile all around. But when his eyes met Alice's she saw the hesitation.

**-xxx-**

_My Dearest Bella,_

_This is just a short note to tell you how much I miss you and that you are in my thoughts constantly. London is as busy as ever and our meetings with the Navy personnel, Mr. Winters and the foreman and engineers from the factory are endless. The contracts are just within reach and when they are signed I shall breathe a sigh of relief. I hope to be home Friday evening before the ball you have undoubtedly heard about and we shall have all night to be together._

_I ache for you,_

_Edward_

Edward blotted the letter and slid it in the envelope, affixing the wax seal on the outside. He leaned back in the chair and exhaled. The last several days had given Edward fresh reason to hope that he might still have his Bella and save his brother and Wrenfield Hall from ruin. The meetings with the Naval officers had gone extraordinarily well and Mr. Winters had been accommodating and encouraging, regardless of the fact that no marriage proposal had been forthcoming for his daughter.

James, for his part, had agreed that if the contracts were secured without a marriage contract between Tanya and Edward, he would ease his encouragement of the match.

"_I just need a way out of my predicament, Edward,"_ he had said last evening. _"I have no desire to ruin your life. I'm just as happy to let you continue as Lord Masen as long as you help me save Trefoil House – and my neck."_

For the first time since the event had been suggested, Edward began to look forward to the Christmas ball. If the contracts were secured, James' safety and future were more certain, and Wrenfield Hall out of jeopardy, the path for he and Bella was clear.

Unable to suppress a smile, Edward stood quickly and descended the stairs to the great front hall. He handed the letter to Lawrence with strict instructions for delivery. Minutes later, a buoyant Edward, gloved and hatted, was in his carriage.

"Hastings Jewelers, Bond Street," he called to his driver, settling back against the red velvet.

"Very good, sir," replied the driver, adding a quiet "And congratulations," under his breath with a smile.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Hope everyone is surviving the winter weather, if it's cold where you are. It's freeeeeeezing here in the woods of Maine...good thing I've got a little ff writing to keep me going...**

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

* * *

Bella set the bouquet of scented geraniums on the small oval table in the guest room and stepped back to admire the vignette. Their deep scarlet color contrasted dramatically against the blue damask walls and added a freshness and warmth to the grand room. After a moment she pulled her gaze away from the flowers in their silver bowl and looked around the room one last time. The fire had been laid and awaited only a match. The bed was freshly made, pillows fluffed, and not a speck of dust could be found in any corner of the room.

Bella was pleased she had been given the task of preparing Alice Hale's room for her visit before the Christmas ball. She didn't really mind most of her housework – she had become accustomed to her routine – and preparing guest rooms was among the lighter assignments. But readying Alice's room hardly felt like work at all. It was if she were preparing to welcome her own friend to her home.

With a satisfied look on her face, she left the room, pulling the door shut behind her. She would be back in an hour to light the fire so the room would be warm for Alice's arrival.

Bella walked down the hall briskly. She knew Bradford needed her help pulling out the set of dishes which had been chosen for Alice and Esme's dinner that evening. One would stand on a stool, carefully removing each piece of china, while the other received it carefully and set it on the counter for wiping down. There would be no trace of dust on the china used at Wrenfield Hall.

Bella passed by the front drawing room and the library, noting all was in order. She quickly made her way down the stairs to the servant's dining room and found Bradford there, repairing a small clock.

He looked up as Bella entered. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"Yes," she replied. Together the two walked to the small room off of the dining room where the china was kept in tall glass-fronted cabinets and began the careful task of removing the fine bone china from the upper shelves.

"It's lovely," said Bella as she took a sauceboat gingerly from Bradford's hands. "Such a beautiful pattern."

Bradford smiled wistfully as he looked at the delicate spray of pale yellow flowers embellishing the front of the soup tureen he now held. "Lady Masen absolutely fell in love with it in London some years back and Lord Masen surprised her with it as a Christmas gift. The look on her face when she entered the breakfast room that morning and saw the table laid with this was beyond compare. She loved pretty things."

Bella set the sauceboat down and took the tureen from Bradford, eager for more about Lord and Lady Masen.

"Did he often do things like that for Lady Masen?"

"Oh yes. He fairly worshipped the ground she walked on and she thought the sun rose and set on him. They were quite a pair."

Bradford gave Bella the last stack of dinner plates, climbed down from the stool and picked up a cloth to wipe the dishes.

"Wrenfield Hall has been too long without a lady of the house, I think. Lord Masen is simply top-notch with the grounds and upkeep, but it's high time we had someone who can appreciate this china or see that the drapes in the front room are rapidly going out of style."

Bella gave a little smile that felt much bigger on the inside. "Yes, it's about time there was a new lady of the house, I'd agree," she said softly, carefully setting down the teacup she had been wiping and picked up another.

"But I'd put my money on it being Miss Winters," Bradford whispered conspiratorially and gave Bella a look of mock dismay. "She may be up on all the latest drapery fashions in London but I just can't see her being happy here – or anyone else being happy about it, either."

Bella smiled again. "I guess we'll all have to see how it settles out, won't we?" and she continued to gently wipe the late Lady Masen's china, humming a little tune.

**-xxx-**

"Thank you," said Esme graciously as she accepted a cup of tea from Janet and then turned to the housekeeper. "And thank you for working so hard on the decorations and the ball, Mrs. Mallory. It will be so wonderful to see Wrenfield Hall decked for the holidays again."

Mrs. Mallory nodded at Esme. "Thank you, Mrs. Cullen. Lady Masen always did us all proud with her lovely decorations. We still have the bunting that was used at the last Christmas ball, four years ago, and Bennett's in the village had enough green ribbon to tie it up, so we're set there. We've ordered flowers, of course, but we certainly could use you and Mrs. Hale to oversee the arrangements and placement. Now, the silver has all been polished up and is ready for you to look over, Mrs. Cullen. I assume we'll use both punch bowls?"

"I expect we'll need to," said Esme.

"I was hoping get an idea of what kind of greenery we could bring in," said Alice, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Have you enough holly to make swags for over the doors? We'll need red ribbon…and some mistletoe, of course."

"Yes, ma'am. Thomas has been gathering holly and evergreen boughs and has amassed quite a pile in the back of the house. You're welcome to take a look at it, of course."

"I think that does it for now, Mrs. Mallory," said Esme. "You've done well."

Mrs. Mallory stood and smiled, a task that required a little effort for the habitually dour woman. "I'm awfully glad you're here, Mrs. Cullen. Wrenfield Hall is desperately in need of a lady's guiding hand."

Esme smiled. "We'll try to do right by her memory, won't we?"

Mrs. Mallory's eyes watered for a moment, then she straightened her herself. "We will, ma'am," she said. "We will."

Alice stood as well.

"I think I'll have a look at that greenery now, Mrs. Mallory. Would you mind sending someone up to my room to help me with my outdoor things? That housemaid, Bella, was quite helpful last visit. I'll have her if she's available."

The soft emotion that had briefly surfaced on the housekeeper's face vanished and a vaguely annoyed look took over.

"Certainly ma'am," she said evenly, and turned to go.

"_I never,"_ she thought grumpily, as she descended below stairs to find Bella. _"As if Bella was a dear friend. Some people have no sense of station…"_

**-xxx-**

Bella knocked at the door to Alice's guest room and was surprised when it flew open almost immediately.

"Bella!" exclaimed Alice, who swiftly shut the door and gathered her into a warm hug.

"Oh!" said a startled Bella, who then gave a small laugh and hesitantly returned the embrace. She was mindful of her black dress and white cotton apron against Alice's lush velour gown.

"How are you, my dear?" asked Alice, eagerly, taking Bella by the hand and leading her to the pair of chairs where they had sat some months prior and talked.

"I'm well," said Bella, carefully. She knew Alice had some idea of her relationship with Edward but she was so used to guarding her secret heart that she was unsure of how to proceed.

Alice looked at her kindly. "You do know I know, don't you?"

"Exactly what do you know…?" ventured Bella.

Alice gave her an impatient look. "Everything! I know about his nighttime visits-" she held up her hand to silence Bella, who had immediately opened her mouth in protest at this last statement – "and yes, no need to explain, I know you have both conducted yourselves honorably in that regard and that you will be worthy of white on your wedding day – a wedding day I certainly hope I will be involved in and that I will be able to call you cousin after!"

Alice smiled at Bella's wide eyes and startled face.

"Yes, Bella, I know he loves you more than the sun and the moon combined and that he is pining away after you in London. He misses you terribly! He's told me himself and besides all that, it's obvious! He's sick to death of London and is literally counting the days until he can return to Wrenfield Hall – and you!"

"So! What have you to say to all that, dear Bella?" Alice settled in to her chair, ready for a long session of ladies talk.

Bella sat silently for a long moment, looking out the window at the bright winter afternoon. Turning back to Alice she allowed a small but thrilled smile to creep over her face.

"He truly misses me that much?" she whispered, trying in vain to force the upturned corners of her mouth down.

"Does he miss you that much! Oh Bella, for heaven's sake! He thinks about you every minute of the day, I can tell you that much! I've never, ever seen my cousin like this. He's finally found the other part of his soul in you and he loves you…"

And Alice Hale continued to chatter excitedly away as Bella's heart swelled and her eyes filled with tears of joy.

**-xxx-**

"Very nice, girls," said Esme, appreciatively, as she surveyed the grand front hall. The cream colored bunting had been hung, draping the walls and staircase in elegance. The fabric was tied up with green satin ribbon and scarlet velvet rosettes that added to the festive look.

Alice clapped her hands in excitement. "Ooh, I love it! Thomas and some of the other men will be bringing in the holly and evergreen shortly and we can begin on the swags over the doors and the garlands to add to the staircase. The flowers will be here tomorrow and we'll light all of the candles just before the guests arrive. Can you just picture it?"

"It's lovely, and with the decorations in the dining room finished, we're nearly done," Esme said, then turned to Mrs. Mallory. "Is Mrs. Cope ready to go over the final menu?"

"I expect so, I'll send her right up."

Just then a knock was heard at the door, and one of the footmen moved to answer it.

"Telegram for Mrs. Cullen," said the young man from the village who appeared breathless.

Esme wrinkled her brow and went to accept the envelope from the footmen, who held it in his outstretched hand. She opened it, reading quickly as the color drained from her face.

"Alice…" she whispered and reached for her daughter who rushed to her side.

**-xxx-**

"Well we can cancel tonight's dinner, as both Mrs. Cullen and Mrs. Hale will be taking trays in their rooms. I suppose I'll just take the roast chicken and make a soup…something comforting."

Mrs. Cope sighed and shook her head as she sat down at the servants' dining table where Bella and Lizzie were the last ones finishing up their noon meal.

"I do hope it all turns out alright," she said.

"Is Mr. Cullen very ill?" asked Lizzie, worriedly. "I mean, do they expect…" her voice trailed off.

"I don't know, dear. It's something with his heart…some sort of an attack. Mrs. Cullen is beside herself that she's not there with him but the next train isn't until tomorrow morning. Lord Masen sent the telegram and promised to stay with him until the ladies are back in London, but that means he won't be back until just before the ball tomorrow night."

Bella's head lifted sharply from her plate and her eyes met Lizzie's for a moment before she looked quickly away.

Mrs. Cope set down her teacup and looked at the young women.

"All right," she said firmly. "Enough is enough. Out with it."

Bella was silent and Lizzie feigned an innocent look.

"I may be an old woman but I'm not dumb…or blind. I see those letters coming to the back door, Bella, delivered by a 'special messenger.' I heard all about the package from your cousin in London. Dear, you haven't got a cousin in London, have you?"

Bella stared at her hands then slowly shook her head.

"Lord Masen?" asked Mrs. Cope quietly.

After a long pause, Bella nodded, then lifted her head.

"But you mustn't say anything!" Bella pleaded. "Nothing is decided. He still is working through some things before…well, before anything is final," she concluded.

Mrs. Cope studied her young friend's hopeful face and sighed. "Oh dear…"

"He loves her!" burst out Lizzie defensively. "He's been in love with her for ages! She's not some silly lovesick girl making things up. He writes her all the time, pages and pages! And Mrs. Hale knows about it, too, he told her himself."

"I'm not saying he's not sincere, Lizzie dear! Bella, I've known Lord Masen for longer than you've been alive. I know he's a good and honorable man. But girls, these great men from these families…well, they have responsibilities and obligations that you can't understand! Generations have worked for this great estate we all live on and things are often more complicated than those of us below stairs know."

"Of course," said Bella. "I know! I'm well aware that this is unconventional, to say the least, and I have no expectations. Really, don't worry about me, Mrs. Cope."

The older woman pressed her lips together and tried to hide her sadness as she looked at Bella's trusting eyes.

"Alright, dear," she said with a sigh, patting Bella's hand before she rose. "Just…just be careful with your heart, dear. A heart once broken will heal, but until then it will hurt like the devil himself is twisting the knife."

**-xxx-**

Bella knocked softly on Alice's door before opening it and bringing her supper in.

Alice stood by the fire and turned as Bella entered.

"Oh…thank you so much, Bella," she said softly. Her eyes were red and her voice broke on the last word.

Bella set down the tray and went to her friend's side, pulling her into a hug.

"I'm so sorry, Alice," she said. "I know you wish you were there."

"Oh, I do," Alice whispered. She pulled back and smiled a little. "But my father is in good hands. Emmett and Rose and Jasper are also with him and Edward's telegram said that he's made sure that the best doctors have seen him."

"Bella," she said, looking her full in the face, "I'm so sorry that Edward won't be here tonight. I'm sure you must be so disappointed."

"Alice! Of course he must stay with your family! I absolutely wouldn't have it any other way. Yes, I miss him terribly, but he's in the right place at this moment and I'll see him soon enough. Now, I promised Mrs. Cope I'd see to it that you ate something. Are you sure you wouldn't rather take your tray into your mother's room and eat with her?"

"No," said Alice. "I just came from there and she's tired. I think she'll be sleeping soon, so it's better that she relax alone right now. Your company is all I need – if you don't mind staying with me for a while."

Bella smiled. "Of course. I'll stay as long as you need me."

Alice's eyes watered again. "You're a good friend, Bella. Thank you so much."

**-xxx-**

Bella rushed into the clamor of the kitchen and looked around hastily for the least frantic person.

"Emily – have we any more of the ginger cakes? The tray that was meant for the front hall table was dropped."

"You dropped a whole tray?" cried Emily as she moved swiftly to a counter where several more trays of ginger cakes topped with candied orange peel sat.

"Well it wasn't me, but it doesn't really matter who!" said Bella, picking up a heavy silver tray laden with cakes. "I just hope we have enough!"

"We'll be fine. Mrs. Cope always counts on some accidents."

"Thank you Emily!" Bella called over her shoulder as she sailed out through the door.

The moment she rounded the corner to the staircase she was stopped by Lizzie, her face aghast.

"Bella! What on earth are you doing?" she asked indignantly.

Bella looked confused. "Bringing up more ginger cakes…" she replied, her brow furrowed.

"Oh no you're not!" said Lizzie stoutly, taking the tray from her. "Have you seen yourself? Your hair is every which way and you're flushed like you've been caught stealing from the collection plate! Go up to your room for a moment, fix your hair and wash your face. Put on a fresh apron and sit for just a moment. Don't come down until you've had a chance to pull yourself together. Lord Masen is expected any minute now and he can't see you like this!"

Bella's heart leapt at the mention of his name. All day long she had pushed the thought from her mind, keeping focused on the tasks of preparing the house for the evening's event, and the reminder that she was minutes from seeing him again caused her chest to pound and her pink face to deepen to a red.

"Are you sure?" Bella questioned. "There's still work to be done-"

"Go!" hissed Lizzie fiercely.

Bella went. A few minutes later, her hair combed and pulled into a smooth knot and her face cooled by a splash of water, she sat in the chair – Edward's chair – in her room. Her hands lay calmly folded in her lap where she studied them against the fresh cotton of her clean apron.

If all went well, this small room would only be hers for a short while longer. She glanced around the space – Lady Masen's red wool blanket folded neatly at the foot of her bed, _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ on her bedside table, the etching of San Marco Piazza pinned to the wall. For a moment, she allowed herself the fantasy of a honeymoon in Venice with Edward.

Edward! The thought of him once again set her heart racing and she stood. He would be here, at any moment, and she didn't want to be shut up here in her room when he arrived.

She flew out the door and down the stairs, slowing to a more respectable pace when she approached the main floor.

Bradford was just approaching the front door as Bella entered the great hall. She stood off to the side with the other staff who had gathered in the hall and fastened her eyes on the door as it opened.

Lord Masen stepped into the hall, where he was greeted respectfully by Bradford, who received his coat and hat. The man of the house murmured a greeting to the butler that Bella could not hear, then turned to face the staff. His piercing green eyes found hers immediately, and for a moment, no one else existed in the world.

"It's good to be home," said Lord Masen.


	20. Chapter Twenty

"It's good to be home," said Lord Masen, his eyes fixed on Bella for a moment.

"Your guests will begin arriving shortly, sir," said Bradford quietly at Lord Masen's side. "We really should get you dressed."

Edward looked away quickly. "Of course," he said. "I have some business to attend to in the library first, however. I'll see you in my room shortly, Bradford."

"Yes sir," said Bradford, bowing slightly and stepping back.

Edward moved through the hall toward the library, approaching the line of servants, where he paused.

"Everything looks wonderful. Well done," he said with a nod and a smile, and he continued toward the hall that led to the library.

As soon as he was out of sight the servants scattered back to their various tasks. Bella stood still for a moment then straightened her shoulders and began walking toward the dining room. She was stopped abruptly by an iron grip at her elbow.

"Where are you going?" whispered Lizzie. "The library is _that_ way, Bella! Honestly, how you ever got this far with him on your own I have no idea!" And she propelled Bella around and faced her toward the opposite hall.

"Do you think that's what he meant?" asked Bella, doubtfully. "I thought so, but…"

Lizzie rolled her eyes. "Of course, silly! Now go!" she said, giving Bella a little push.

That was all Bella needed. With a quick glance to ensure no one was watching, she walked at a restrained pace though her heart was racing. When she reached the library she entered without hesitation and found Edward standing by the lit fire, his eyes fastening on her.

"The door," he said in a low voice and Bella turned and firmly shut the door as Edward crossed the room in a few long, swift strides. Key in hand, he reached around Bella and locked the door then took her face eagerly in his hands.

"Bella," he breathed intensely before he backed her against the door and lowered his head to hers, meeting her mouth with his own.

Bella needed no encouragement. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him even closer, reveling in his scent, his warmth, the softness of his lips. All of the tension of the day, the anxious lonesome nights, the worry that he might not be able to return to her, all melted away in his arms.

Edward finally tore his lips from Bella's and began covering her face, her jaw, her neck with kisses as if he were a starving man at a feast.

"Bella," he whispered again. "I have missed you more than you know."

"Oh, I think I can imagine," whispered Bella as she put her hands on his face and pulled him back so she could see his eyes. "Every day I thought of you, every night I wished for you. Being with you again is like…"

"…being home," Edward finished for her, kissing her eyelids as they fluttered shut.

"Yes," she sighed and melted into his arms again.

Edward continued kissing her face and lips as his hands slid down her neck and shoulders to the taut fabric of her dress that covered her ribcage. His warm hands gripped her waist tightly and the feeling of his strong fingers on her body made her insides quiver. She shivered involuntarily.

"Are you cold, darling?" he murmured, scooping her up and carrying her to a leather chair by the fire. They sat quietly for a moment, Bella's arms around his neck, her fingers entwined in his hair, her cheek pressed against his hair, his arms wrapped tightly around her waist and his head resting on her chest where he could hear her heartbeat.

"I meant that, darling. Wherever you are feels like home to me."

Bella smiled against the top of his tousled head. "Thank you, my love."

Another moment passed.

"I have so much to tell you, so much to explain," said Edward, "but I fear we haven't time right now. The guests will begin arriving soon and James and Tanya and her family were on the train with me but had to stop in the village briefly. They will be here any moment, if they aren't already."

Bella's body stiffened at the mention of Tanya.

"Don't worry," he said, lifting his head to look her in the face. "I do believe we are in the clear. For a while it seemed that my match with Tanya was imperative to the success of James' venture, but the loan has been secured and the contracts are all but signed. In fact, the Admiral will be here this evening and I expect we'll be signing them tonight or tomorrow."

"I still don't understand why…" said Bella softly.

"I know, Bella dear. You have been far more patient than I deserve, but I promise you, tonight, I will tell you everything. Everything about my family, my father, the obligations I face, James and his troubles…" he sighed. "There is much to tell."

Edward pulled her face close to his and kissed her tenderly. "But tomorrow morning, darling, it will all be different for us. No more hiding. I promise."

His mind drifted briefly to the ring that was safely ensconced in his breast pocket and he held her more tightly.

"I don't know how I am going to last until this ball is over," Bella whispered in his ear. "I've missed you so terribly, and I will look forward to tonight like I never have before."

She gave his earlobe a small nip and for a fraction of a second her tongue slipped out and tasted his soft skin. "There are so many, many things I look forward to…" she murmured.

Edward's eyes closed and his heart sped up. "Bella," breathed through clenched teeth before he brought his mouth crashing against hers again with an intensity they had not felt since the evening Bella visited him in his room and he had ripped her nightdress.

Bella responded eagerly, but at that moment, a knock was heard at the door.

Both figures, entwined on the chair, froze and then Bella leapt up from his lap.

"Shall I hide behind the drapes?" she whispered, her eyes wide.

"No," said Edward, standing and taking her hand. "Whoever it is will know in the morning anyway. I'm tired of hiding."

"Sir?" came Bradford's muffled voice through the door. "I hate to disturb you, but Mr. Masen and the Winters have arrived and you have less than a quarter of an hour before your other guests will arrive."

Holding Bella's hand tightly, Edward approached the door, unlocked and then opened it.

Bradford stopped at the sight of Lord Masen with the housemaid, standing together. His jaw went slack for a moment then quickly returned to normal.

"This will all be public tomorrow, Bradford, but for tonight, I would appreciate your discretion."

"Of course," said a stunned Bradford, who bowed slightly and retreated.

"I must go," said Edward regretfully to Bella, who smiled, kissed him on his cheek and released his hand with a squeeze.

She watched him walk down the long hallway and breathed a long sigh. Tonight could not come fast enough.

**-xxx-**

"More punch!" called out one of the footmen as he entered hubbub of the kitchen. "It's nearly gone in the dining room."

"There should be plenty of wine and brandy in the china room," said Mrs. Cope as she assembled a tray with jars of lemon juice, orange juice and a dish of sugar. "Now mix it with these proportions and stir it well," she said, handing the footman the tray and written instructions. "Though perhaps a bit more lemon – I've been told many of the ladies prefer it more lemony."

Following the footman went Kate in search of a fresh crock of soap from the larder and two more maids carrying trays of canapés. Suddenly, the room was empty save Lizzie and Bella, who were wiping newly washed punch cups to bring back upstairs, and Mrs. Cope, who was putting the finishing touches on a towering croquembouche.

Two pairs of eyes quickly swiveled to Bella, who blushed and continued wiping the cups.

"Well?" queried Lizzie impatiently, and Mrs. Cope watched her carefully.

"You were right," said Bella with a smile. "He was waiting for me in the library and it was more wonderful than I had imagined. He says we'll tell everyone tomorrow, that he's tired of hiding our relationship."

"Oooh!" squealed Lizzie, throwing her arms around Bella's neck, making her nearly drop the cup she held. "Did he get down on one knee? Do you have a ring?"

Bella laughed and hugged her back. "Well, no. We were interrupted by Bradford, who has promised to be discreet. But I do think…I think it's coming, later tonight."

Another round of squeals burst forth from Lizzie as Mrs. Cope approached Bella with tears in her eyes.

"Ah, dear. I'm so happy for you. I'm sure you wish your mother and father were here for this, but we'll have to do. Congratulations. You're a lovely girl and he's a lucky man."

Bella hugged the kind woman and blinked back the tears of joy in her own eyes.

**-xxx-**

Edward toyed with his cufflinks distractedly as Sir David Rothschild took his leave of him to go search out a cup of punch. The stream of guests seemed never-ending to Edward, whose thoughts were far from this room crowded with fine cutaway suits and silk gowns. The music of the orchestra annoyed him as he longed for the quiet of Bella's upstairs room, but he knew that hours of dancing and socializing still lay ahead of him.

"Lovely party, wouldn't you agree?" said James, who approached him from behind.

Edward turned to his brother and smiled. "James. You're actually the first person I'm glad to see here."

"Well that's nice for a change," joked James, "though I will say I'm surprised that you weren't happier to see Lady Cornish. I do believe she's been quite lonely since Lord Cornish passed away last year, and she seemed awfully intent on keeping you to herself. And I wouldn't dismiss her out of hand just because she was a debutante with Aunt Esther. She still seems rather spritely."

Edward gave James a disapproving look but had to work to hide a smile. "Lady Cornish is a lovely woman and good family friend. Let's leave it there."

"If you're sure, then, and she's fair game, I might have to ask her for a waltz myself." And he winked and sauntered away.

"Be good!" called Edward, who shook his head as he watched his brother go.

"Well, it's certainly nice to see you two getting along so well," said a smooth voice at his elbow.

Edward frowned involuntarily for a moment at the sound of Tanya's voice, then regained himself.

"Yes," he said. "I agree."

"On to another happy subject, Wrenfield Hall looks beautiful!" said Tanya, snaking her arm into his. "Your cousin and aunt certainly did a lovely job with the decorations and the food is divine! You must give my compliments to Mrs. Court."

"Mrs. Cope," he corrected her stiffly.

"Oh…yes," she said airily.

"Have you tried a ginger cake yet?" Edward inquired, trying to disentangle himself gracefully from her clinging arm. "They're over at that table, I'm sure you'd find it worth the trip."

Tanya tightened her grip on his arm. "Oh, I'm afraid if I eat one more bite I'll just burst right out of this dress. And we wouldn't want that, now would we?" she asked with a seductively low voice. "What a shock that would be!"

Edward ignored her as he began searching the room for James. Perhaps if he saw Edward's awkward position he would come and whisk Tanya away as he always seemed so eager to do.

"You know," Tanya said, pouting slightly. "You haven't asked me to dance once this evening. In fact, I don't think I've seen you dance with anyone at all. Dance with me, Edward, or people will start thinking you aren't enjoying your own party!"

"Actually, Tanya, you'll have to forgive me, but there is something I must attend to right now."

And with that, he firmly removed her arm from his, bowed slightly and left her, opened mouthed and red faced.

He made his way into the crowded hall just as the orchestra struck up a slow waltz. He gave appropriate greetings and nods to the throngs of partygoers who called their hellos but he did not slow down until he found Bradford.

"Bradford," he said in a low voice, pulling him aside. "I need a moment in the library. Can you please find what was in there earlier and send it to me?"

Bradford looked surprised but nodded his head in understanding. "Of course sir," and he disappeared.

Edward waited only a few short minutes in the dark empty library before Bella's unmistakable silhouette appeared quietly at the door.

"Edward?" she said questioningly.

He stared at her for a moment, then went to her, pulling her into the room and closing the door. The suddenly-muted music and privacy of darkness pulled them both into their own world. Edward held Bella's hands silently as her eyes adjusted to the firelight and his face came into focus.

"I wanted a dance," he said quietly. "Will you do me the honor?"

"Of course," she smiled broadly and placed her hand on his upper arm as he wrapped it tightly around her waist. For a blissful moment they paused and took in the happiness and relief in each other's faces, then fell slowly together into the movement of a waltz, twirling in and out of shadow as the firelight flickered. Bounded by the walls of books which brought them together, they clung to each other and reveled in the release of pent-up feeling. When the music ended they held on and only slowed their movement, revolving around each other in their own silent, magical world.

A blinding light broke the spell as the door was thrust open and the outside world flooded back in.

"Lord Masen?" came a deep voice.

Edward and Bella stopped and looked at the dark, portly silhouette in the doorway.

"Mr. Winters?" asked Edward, peering through the dim room but still holding Bella tightly.

"May I have a word?" the man asked, stepping closer to the couple until his face was illuminated by the fireplace. "Alone?"

"Yes, of course," said Edward, looking concerned and releasing Bella, who quickly slipped out of the room.

Once the men were alone, Mr. Winters faced Edward squarely, his small eyes narrowing even further.

"Now listen here, Lord Masen. I don't know what you mean by practicing your dancing in here with the help, but I will tell you this – no daughter of mine will be left alone, humiliated on the dance floor. Do you hear me?"

"Winters, I do apologize and I will apologize to Tanya if need be. But I was not in the right frame of mind to dance with your daughter at that moment and I'm certain she's had no shortage of others asking her for a dance."

Mr. Winters was silent for a moment as he studied Edward's face. He cocked his head to this side as if he were trying to decide how to phrase something, then stepped even closer to Edward. He watched him for a moment then took a large breath.

"Perhaps it would be best if I were blunt, Lord Masen. These past several months it seemed as if your attentions to my daughter were leading up to something that would please her and our family greatly – a proposal of marriage. It's what she wants, I know it is. And, quite frankly, I am quite intent on ensuring my dear Tanya's happiness in this regard."

Edward looked taken aback.

"Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you and Tanya, but I'm afraid that proposal is not forthcoming. I really am very sorry."

"I beg to differ," said Winters in a menacingly polite voice. "I do believe there will be a proposal coming to my daughter soon, and from you."

"Truly, sir, I do not know what misinformation you are laboring under, but I have no intention of asking-"

"Now listen here and listen good," growled Winters. "I know about James' 'troubles'. I know Trefoil house is heavily mortgaged and in danger of being lost. I know he has debts that he cannot pay, debts you cannot pay for him. And I know that to pay his debts or save your family's home in London you would have to run Wrenfield Hall in a way that you are not willing to do."

Winters snorted at Lord Masen's surprised face. "I may act like a jolly man, Masen, but I am no buffoon. I know people like you – old money families – turn up their noses at the nouveau riche like us, think us all vulgar, that we've pushed our way into your society. But I tell you, I don't care."

Winters lowered his voice and leaned in uncomfortably close to Edward. "I could buy and sell you ten times over, Masen. Think about that. You believe you're so high and mighty because your family has had money for longer than mine – well where is that money now? Unless this balloon factory is a success, your family dynasty will slowly crumble like so many are, all around you."

"I know you and James need this factory. And understand me, Masen, without me, you haven't a chance in hell of succeeding. I know you think the contracts are as good as signed, but one word from me and the doors of the Admiralty will be closed to you forever – and a lot of other doors you cannot even anticipate."

"Do you really want to be the downfall of centuries of your family's hard work? Do you really want to see your poor, pitiful tenants thrown out on their backsides when Wrenfield Hall is out of your hands?"

Edward stared at Mr. Winters, his face white.

"You can't possibly mean…"

"Need I speak more plainly?" said Winters, coldly. "Ask Tanya to marry you. Now. Do it or accept all the consequences that will come. And be assured – they will come."

Mr. Winters looked at Edward with a fierce calm. "Do we have a deal?"

"You can't be serious…" Edward began again, and again Winters interrupted.

"I am serious and I want an answer now. Or I will find Commodore Armstrong right this moment and destroy any chance of those contracts you so badly need."

"So. Do we have a deal?"

"Not tonight," whispered Edward, gripping the back of a chair for support. "Give me at least until tomorrow. I have things I need to set in order…"

"It's now or never, Lord Masen. It's this or watch the Masen family dynasty ebb away. You've had plenty of time to think about it before now. I'll give you a quarter of an hour to see it my way. "

Stunned, Edward gave the smallest of nods.

"Fine," said Winters, his customary jovial mood returning. "Now, that wasn't so hard now, was it – son?"

**-xxx-**

Ten minutes later, a dazed Edward found himself lost in the crowded dance floor, looking in vain for his brother. A sea of happy faces swirled around him and he felt sicker by the minute. Just as he was ready to give up, he heard the orchestra music stop and a familiar voice call for attention.

"May I have your attention, please, everyone," boomed Mr. Winters, who stood several steps up on the grand staircase. The din of the party quieted as all eyes turned to the man with the quivering walrus mustache.

"I have a rather exciting announcement to make," he said, smiling. "Lord Masen, would you mind joining me up here?"

Edward felt he had turned to stone but his body acted of its own accord as he approached the stairs. _He must be making an announcement about the factory… _he told himself.

Numbly, he walked up the stairs and stood next to Mr. Winters, who clapped him heartily on the back.

"Just a few minutes ago, I had a chat with our dear Lord Masen, where we discussed life and love and all those grand ideas. Tanya, dear, would you come up here, too?"

_No, no, no, no…_ thought Edward frantically.

A beaming Tanya accepted her father's outstretched hand as she ascended the stairs and stood between her father and a pale and unblinking Edward.

"Much to my delight, he asked me for the hand of my lovely daughter, Tanya, and I consented!"

Applause burst forth in the hall as Tanya grabbed Edward's arm and pulled herself in close to him, her white teeth gleaming in her wide smile.

At the back of the crowd, Bella stood frozen, a look of shock on her face.

"To the happy couple," shouted Mr. Winters over the din and the cheers, "Lord Masen and Miss Winters!"

Chapter Twenty


	21. Chapter Twentyone

**Ok! Quite a response to that last chapter! Can you all handle it? I promise not to keep Bella and Edward apart FOREVER, but I've got some more storytelling to do in the meantime…hope you don't mind. But seriously, this is like a chick flick – it all works out in the end.**

**A little "hee hee" to everyone who caught the "lemon" joke in the last chapter, too. I must confess, however, that joke was my husband's idea, so props to him. Also, it was his idea to have Bella and Edward dance in the library aaaand he even wrote one paragraph in that last chapter. I swear, he's straight! And (mostly) normal. ****Actually, he's just kind of awesome. Sigh. **

**So, seriously, to those who had major heartfail at the last chapter, have faith. I mean this is Edward and Bella FANFIC, after all. I'm not going to totally screw with you!**

**In other period drama news, if you didn't watch Downton Abbey this last month then FIND IT ON THE INTERNET AND WATCH IT. I'm thinking of making it a prerequisite to reading this story… ****No, really, it's just too good to not watch it and I'm so psyched that there is another season in the works! I had no idea!**

**And ALSO – listen up! A new version of Jane Eyre has been made with Mia Wasikowska (from Alice in Wonderland) and it looks gooooooood. You can find the trailer on YouTube - I won't try to put a link here because it doesn't work on Fanfiction. Just look it up, it's easy to find. I absolutely love Jane Eyre and it was a BIG inspiration for this story (and, I do believe, a favorite of the lovely Stephenie Meyer). The house in Jane Eyre was called Thornfield Hall, I created Wrenfield Hall, not a coincidence, the man in JE is named Edward, it was written by Charlotte Bronte, my name is Wannabe Charlotte, also not a coincidence… Plus it just has that great "Lord of the Manor" and "the help" romance (upstairs, downstairs), the poor orphaned girl with pluck and smarts, and it's just AWESOME. I aspire to be one fiftieth as amazing as Charlotte Bronte. One one hundredth, maybe.**

**This is a bit of a short chapter but it sort of ended itself where it ends, so…yeah. It is what it is.**

**OK! Wow! Longest author note ever! If you made it to the end of this, then thanks! You're dedicated. **

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**Chapter Twenty-one**Bella stared at Edward and Miss Winters on the stairs as her body turned to ice and her ears started to ring. She leaned her trembling hand against the doorjamb for a moment, hoping the dizziness would pass, but it only worsened. As her vision narrowed, she suddenly felt a strong arm supporting her and guiding her quickly down the hallway.

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"Let's get you out of here," whispered Bradford. She stumbled once but finally made it below stairs with Bradford's assistance, where she then waved him off and rushed out the back door alone.

The cold air hit Bella's damp face and the ringing in her ears began to subside. She sat down on a bench and lowered her head to her knees, trying not to think about what she had just seen.

But the image came rushing back…Miss Winters, gripping Edward's arm with delight on her face, her father's satisfied look, and Edward…Edward just standing there passively…her Edward…

The dizziness returned forcefully and suddenly Bella found herself on her knees heaving violently on the ground. Horrified, she wiped her mouth on her sleeve, then pulled herself up and rushed blindly into the darkness. A blanket of new snow was on the ground and Bella sank to her knees, scooping up a handful of snow to clean her mouth and face.

For several minutes, Bella sat numbly as the snow melted through her dress and crept into her shoes. She felt utterly alone.

But as the minutes ticked by, the chaos in her mind began to clear and she began to sort through her thoughts.

She didn't understand what had happened. Not fifteen minutes had passed between that blissful waltz in the library and the horror of the announcement in the front hall. What had Mr. Winters said to Edward? How could everything have changed so quickly? A sudden thought pierced her brain – what if Edward had never meant it at all? What if he never had any intention of marrying her? He never said he wanted to marry her, not in those words. He had said things would be different, he was tired of hiding…but never that he actually would marry her.

The grief that had gripped her heart so painfully minutes before was slowly replaced with humiliation, numbness…and the beginnings of anger.

Bella stood, shaking off the wet snow that clung to her dress and apron in clumps. She breathed deeply, composing herself as she heard her name called in the darkness.

"Bella! Bella!" shrieked Lizzie from the back steps.

"I'm here," Bella called quietly, stepping into the yellow light that streamed from the open door.

"Oh for gracious sake, come in here! You'll catch your death," fussed Lizzie as she caught sight of Bella, bedraggled and wet.

"Come straight upstairs," said Lizzie, whisking her inside and past the kitchen door where several of the staff stared in open curiosity.

Upstairs, Bella stared woodenly as she allowed Lizzie to strip her of her cold wet clothes and cover her quickly with a dry nightgown.

"Here," Lizzie ordered as she pulled back the covers and steered Bella into the narrow bed. Despite Lizzie's best efforts, Bella sat upright in her bed, so Lizzie tucked the quilt firmly around her waist and then took the red wool coverlet from the end of the bed to drape around her shoulders.

"No!" said Bella suddenly. Lizzie stopped.

"Not that blanket," Bella said more quietly. "I'll have my shawl, please."

Lizzie obliged and took the shawl from the nail on the back of the door. After a moment, Bella's shivering stopped and Lizzie sat on the edge of her bed.

"I saw it, too," said Lizzie, quietly. "I don't understand…"

Bella nearly laughed, but a sob caught in her throat. She swallowed hard and started again.

"No. I don't understand it either," she said. "I don't know what happened." She turned to her friend with wide eyes that managed to look empty while simultaneously filling with tears.

"Lizzie, not fifteen minutes before he asked me to the library, alone, and we danced…we danced…"

Her voice broke and she lowered her head.

"It was…I thought he meant it all…but maybe I just heard what I wanted to hear…but I was so sure…and the things he said…and how it felt when we were together…and…I just…I…"

Bella raised her head and looked at Lizzie, her eyes pleading for answers.

"Lizzie!" she whispered desperately. "What happened? I'm so…" and she began to cry in her friend's arms.

A soft knock came at the door and both women looked up.

"Who is it?" Lizzie asked fiercely.

"It's Mrs. Cope," came the reply.

Lizzie stood and opened the door for Mrs. Cope who came in with a cup of tea and a slice of bread and butter on a tray.

"Here, dear," said Mrs. Cope, setting the tray down on the bedside table and reaching over to give Bella a kiss on the top of her head. She looked at Bella's wet cheeks and pulled a clean handkerchief out of her pocket and handed it to her.

"Thank you," muttered Bella as she mopped her face, then pulled her knees up to her face, wrapping her hands around her legs.

"Argh! I'm such a fool!" Bella suddenly exclaimed in frustration, shaking her head in disgust. "I want to believe it was all some sort of misunderstanding, but I know it couldn't be. He stood there while Mr. Winters announced her engagement and he didn't contradict him. It's true! He's going to marry her, and I had myself convinced he loved me. I'm such a fool!" she repeated, her voice shaking and her eyes threatening to spill over with tears again.

Mrs. Cope crossed her arms and looked as angry as the sweet-faced woman possibly could.

"I don't think you were a fool. Trusting, perhaps, and open to love, but there's no shame in that. No, I think the shame lies entirely elsewhere."

For a moment, the three women were silent with their thoughts. Then Mrs. Cope spoke.

"I'm awfully sorry, dear, but I have to get back to the kitchen. Lizzie, stay here with her. Bradford and I will cover for you."

Lizzie nodded.

"Bella," Mrs. Cope said. "Dear, I won't pretend I know what to say to you. This is just a wretched situation, it truly is. But know I think you're wonderful, because you are."

Bella sniffed noisily and nodded her thanks and watched Mrs. Cope go.

An hour later, Bella lay wide awake in her bed as Lizzie lay snoring at her feet. Bella didn't blame her – they were all exhausted and she had tried valiantly to stay awake with Bella, but Bella had feigned sleep and Lizzie wasn't too far behind.

She knew she couldn't stay here. Every minute that she remained under his roof the pain clawed at her heart, and she was simultaneously hoping for and dreading the possibility that he might come see her tonight when his guests had gone. She knew she had to go.

She woke Lizzie and sent her to sleep in her own room, claiming that the bed was too crowded for the both of them. Lizzie protested but eventually went to her own small room down the hall.

As soon as Lizzie was gone, she changed into her weekend dress and packed her small case with the meager remains of her wardrobe and her scant possessions. It took all of ten minutes to pack her case.

She stripped the bed and neatly folded the quilt. She hesitated for a fraction of a second, then added Lady Elizabeth Masen's folded red wool coverlet to the top of the quilt. _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare _still sat on her bedside table and there it remained. She would take no reminder of Lord Masen with her, save the wounds to her heart.

But she would take the hair ribbons and gloves from Alice. She did not have so many friends that she could – or would want to – discard a friend just because of her associations.

Within twenty minutes, she was ready to leave Wrenfield Hall, case in hand. For a moment she stood in the silent room, surveying the bare walls and dresser top. The room was thick with memories of Edward – the night he brought her tea, reading together, long hours of conversation, playing chess, sharing a sweet roll, their first kiss…

Bella shook her head, determined to leave it all behind. She turned, fighting tears, and walked out the door, closing it firmly behind her.

**-xxx-**

The clock in St. Mary's village struck two as Bella approached the darkened vicarage. The two mile walk from Wrenfield Hall had left her exhausted and freezing and feeling even lower than when she had left. The carriages leaving the ball had rolled past her and every time one approached she stiffened with anticipation.

_Please let it be him…please don't let it be him…_fought in her head. Twice carriages had stopped and offered Bella a ride into the village but Bella had politely refused.

And now she stood on Rev. and Mrs. Webber's doorstep, feeling tired, hungry, cold, humiliated…and in desperate need of welcoming arms.

She raised her hand, clad in Alice's glove, and knocked on the door. A few moments passed and she heard a rustling on the inside of the door.

"Who is it?" Rev. Webber called out.

"It's…it's Bella."

The door latch opened and the Webbers stood, their faces creased with concern.

"Bella!" cried Mrs. Webber, pulling her into the warmth of their home. "What has happened? Oh my dear girl!"

And Bella fell into her arms as the tears began to flow again.

**-xxx-**

Mrs. Cope stood in the middle of Bella's abandoned room, paper in hand. She re-read the short note she had found on the bed when she came to check on Bella before retiring to bed.

_Lizzie or Mrs. Cope,_

_I hope you find this note before anyone else. I cannot stay here. I hope you understand. I am going to the Webber's until I can determine where to go next. Please do not tell him where I am. _

_Bella_

Mrs. Cope sighed and pressed her hand to her forehead. Of course Bella couldn't stay here, she already knew that. But it hadn't occurred to Mrs. Cope that Bella would leave in the middle of the night, alone, without saying goodbye.

As she stood in the empty room, debating whether to wake her Joseph and send him off in search of Bella, a knock came.

Mrs. Cope opened it to find Lord Masen standing in the hallway, his eyes wide with pain, his wild hair standing nearly on end.

"Mrs. Cope," he began, startled.

Mrs. Cope's mouth hardened into a thin line. "She's gone."

Edward sagged against the doorjamb. "I never got to explain…"

"Well I'm sure that would have been quite an explanation, Lord Masen," Mrs. Cope said icily. "One for the books."

He looked at her wearily. "How much do you know?"

"Enough. Enough to know her heart is broken and she'll never set foot in this house again." She was silent for a moment as her eyes flashed angrily. "I don't quite know what your intentions were, or how exactly it all developed between you two, but I will tell you this – she didn't deserve this."

Mrs. Cope made a move toward the door. As she passed by Edward, he placed a hand on her arm.

"Mrs. Cope, where is she? I need to speak to her, I need to explain, it can't be left like this…"

"She doesn't want you to know, Lord Masen, and unless your explanation includes the words 'I'm not marrying Miss Winters,' I would suggest you leave her be."

With that, she strode swiftly down the hall, leaving Edward alone in the empty room.

As he stood in the center of the small space, taking in the bare walls and clean surfaces, he saw _The Complete Works of William Shakespeare_ at her bedside. Pain stabbed at his heart – she had left it. He reached down and carefully took the book that felt leaden in his hands. He looked at the stripped bed, his eyes resting on the red wool coverlet folded at its foot. Heavily, he fell to his knees burying his face in the soft fabric, taking in the scent of lavender that permeated it. Her scent…

For a long time, Lord Masen stayed in the small, chilly upstairs room, forsaking his warm and comfortable chamber below. For a long time he stayed where it had felt like home for so long…but now was as empty as his heart.


	22. Chapter Twentytwo

**Ok, ladies, this is short, but bear with me. More is coming.**

**Also, I am (at the suggestion of some of the more tech-savvy among us) now on Twitter. I don't know what that means, really, except that I guess I will Tweet (I cannot type that with a straight face - _Tweet? _Really?) when I have an update and then it can be re-tweeted if you want to pimp out the story. I guess? I really am a moron with this stuff, but I'm trying. So, my understanding is that if you add me (follow me? what?) then you will get my messages. Or whatever.**

**I am wannabecharlott There is no e on the end of charlotte because I ran out of characters, I'm guessing.**

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**Chapter Twenty-two**

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The bitter February wind cut through Bella's wool cape as if she were wearing gauze, whipping her hair free from the careless knot at the nape of her neck. The icy cold had numbed her fingers and cheeks beyond feeling but still she stood on Westminster Bridge, staring into the inky black depths of the Thames below. What her body felt could not match the numbness of her soul.

Since she had left Wrenfield Hall that night, she had tried. She had tried to forget, to move forward. She had cried until there were no more tears, she had talked with Mrs. Webber until she was exhausted. Mrs. Cope and Lizzie had visited, had tried to lift her spirits with servant gossip, new needlepoint patterns, talk of picnics to look forward to in the spring.

But what they didn't say was what hurt most. He was never mentioned, it was if he had never existed. Once she asked if the plans for his wedding were progressing, and they were silent. The silence spoke volumes and Bella didn't ask again.

Christmas came and went at the vicarage, with a cheerful visit from Angela and Ben and the news that Angela was to have a baby in the summer. Bella congratulated her dear friend warmly and accompanied her and Mrs. Webber to Bennett's to purchase fabric to begin sewing the baby's layette, but inside she felt herself slipping deeper into darkness.

Midway through January, Bella left the Webber's home for London. She couldn't keep up her charade any longer. Every dinner conversation she smiled through, every evening in front of the fire with her dear friends left her feeling emptier than before. Mrs. Cope had a sister in London who found her a position in a respectable house, and Bella's life resumed, carrying buckets of coal and dusting mantles.

But the dark hole inside of her grew as she stood on the crumbling edge of light. She found herself sleepless, unable to eat, her loneliness engulfing her in a way she never imagined possible.

Still she pushed him from her thoughts. Mrs. Cope had been right to a point – the hurt felt as though the devil himself were twisting the knife, but only when Bella allowed herself to think of him. To protect herself from the unbearable pain, she chose the black numbness of no thought at all.

Once she found herself standing in front of Alice's house, her address having been relayed to her from Mrs. Cope. Alice had begged Mrs. Cope to tell her where Bella was but Mrs. Cope respected the wishes of her friend and had kept silent. "But do go see her, dear," her letter to Bella read. "She is terribly concerned for you and wishes to help in any way she can."

But Bella could not bring herself to knock on the door and she left.

And now she found herself on the bridge over the dark river, unconsciously moving closer to the edge.

As she leaned over the rail her mind turned to Ophelia.

_"When down her weedy trophies and herself  
Fell in the weeping brook. Her clothes spread wide;  
And, mermaid-like, awhile they bore her up:  
Which time she chanted snatches of old tunes;  
As one incapable of her own distress,  
Or like a creature native and indued  
Unto that element: but long it could not be  
Till that her garments, heavy with their drink,  
Pull'd the poor wretch from her melodious lay  
To muddy death."_

But Queen Gertrude had it wrong, Bella thought. Yes, Ophelia had gone mad after being rejected by her true love, Hamlet, but it did not seem to Bella that Ophelia's death had been unintentional at all.


	23. Chapter Twentythree

**So, I feel like a *real* fanfic writer now – there are threads for Wrenfield Hall now at both Twilighted and A Different Forest. Thanks to sarasparks, theraingirl and Go Ask Alix for scrounging up a TON of new readers for me! Things have really taken off in the last week or so and it's SO MUCH FUN to see it happen! My husband and I are having a good time reading the reviews, messages and discussions – there isn't much cuter than a man who gets home from work and heads straight for the laptop to read the latest reviews for his wife's fanfic. I tell you, I don't even need anything for Valentine's Day with that kind of stuff going on. And, of course, a huuuuuuuuge thanks to him for his editing, ideas and tolerance of all this silliness.**

**The Twilighted thread is twilighted (dot) net/forum/viewtopic (dot) php?f=44&t=14573&start=0**

**The ADF thread is adifferentforest (dot) com/Campfire_Comment (dot) aspx?ID=10593**

**ALLLLSO, on twitter, occasionally tweeting a little of this and that regarding Wrenfield Hall. I'm wannabecharlott – leave off the last e.**

**Lastly, my apologies to any Italian readers out there for any grammer flubs in this chapter – feel free to PM me with corrections!**

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**Chapter Twenty-three**

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Morning church bells rang out sweetly in the fresh spring air as Bella lifted her head from the smooth cotton of her pillow. She stretched leisurely, then tucked her hands behind her head as she contemplated the day that lay before her. She had one group scheduled just after breakfast, but the afternoon was hers to spend as she pleased. Perhaps a visit to the bookshop to check if the new shipment had arrived, or maybe she would take her sketchpad and a small picnic to the waters' edge to enjoy the view of the ships in the afternoon sun.

Rising from her bed, she crossed the room to the shuttered window and opened the latch. Leaning out, she took in the view of the small canal with one gondola floating silently down the glassy water. Across the waterway another shuttered window flew open and a sturdy woman leaned out to grasp a white sheet that hung from a laundry line that stretched from the open window to the next window in the brick building. Judging it dry, she began reeling in the line, removing the washing as she pulled.

"_Buon giorno!"_ called Bella to the woman.

The dark head across the way looked up from her task and gave Bella a wide smile.

"_Buon giorno! E 'una bella mattina, non è vero? Sei pronto per il giorno?"_

"_Sì. Mi auguro che il sole tutto il giorno. Sono pronto per una giornata gratuita di pioggia_," Bella replied.

"_Lo siamo tutti, cara. Avere un giorno meraviglioso!"_ And the woman finished pulling her laundry inside and disappeared.

With a contented sigh, Bella looked the other way down the canal. Terra cotta pots overflowing with red geraniums hung from several windows, contrasting with the pale shades of tan, orange and cream of the brick buildings that lined the canal. Further down Bella watched as a boat laden with produce glided to a halt and a man emerged from the closest door. Quickly, the man in the boat began handing wooden crates of leafy greens, oranges and bright carrots to the man at the door as their friendly words echoed down the canal.

_Those oranges look lovely,_ thought Bella. _Perhaps I will stop by Signore Bianchi's market on the way to the office and pick up one for my lunch._

The thought of the office spurred Bella to action. She withdrew from the window and moved around her room, readying herself for the day. After a quick trip to the shared lavatory at the end of the hall, she returned to her room and dressed, stowing her cotton nightgown neatly under her pillow. Finding that she had a few minutes to spare, she stood in front of the small shelf of books that hung on the wall over her simple writing desk. She would want a book to read in the afternoon, should the bookshop still be awaiting their new shipment.

She settled on _A Tramp Abroad_ by Mark Twain, one of the first books she purchased last year when her income was such that she could begin to afford such luxuries. She almost didn't buy it…Mark Twain brought back the sweet and painful memory of Edward reading _Tom Sawyer_ to her in her old room at Wrenfield Hall…

Abruptly, Bella turned and tucked the book into her bag firmly. She would not think of her old life. For more than three years she had shut the door on her memories, her hurt. Edward had begun a new life and family and she had chosen a new life, too. She was shaping that life purposefully and quite satisfactorily, and she would not allow the past to sway her in any way, from what books she bought to where she lived.

Her bag was loaded for the day with her book, sketchpad and pencils, clean handkerchiefs and a small stack of her cards:

**Isabella Swan**

**Ladies Tour Guide**

_**Onorevoli Guida Turistica**_

**12 Calle Canónica**

**Venezia, Italia**

A look in the mirror satisfied her that her fashionable hat was affixed securely to her head and her smart dark blue dress was spotless and well-pressed.

Through the hall and down the stairs she went, pausing to bid her landlady, Signora Pagano, a good morning, before emerging into the brilliant Venetian morning. Her feet tapped a soothing rhythm on the ancient paving stones alongside the canal until she came to the footbridge that would carry her over the canal the other side. As she passed over the bridge, she paused for a moment and stared into the murky water below…

_She had been standing over the Thames that cold night, imagining Ophelia being pulled, unresisting, under the water when she heard a kind voice behind her. She allowed herself, hollow-eyed and empty-hearted, to be led by an older couple away from the edge of the bridge. A cup of hot tea in a warm tearoom and Bella found herself pouring out her heart to Mr. and Mrs. John Clement. Their kind manner and honest expressions of sympathy set Bella at ease. When they suggested that she assist them as they led a group of privileged English girls on a Grand Tour of Europe, she accepted without hesitation. Over the next few months her soul slowly warmed as she assisted the Clements with tutoring and bookkeeping as they chaperoned giggling girls through the museums of Paris, the concert halls of Vienna, the cathedrals of Barcelona. At the end of their week in Venice, with the blessing of Mr. and Mrs. Clement, Bella stayed behind to forge her new life._

Bella shook her head as she lifted her eyes from the water. The day was fresh and beautiful – she would not waste it in unhealthy reminiscing. With a deliberate spring in her step, she continued her walk to the office.

She stopped by Signore Bianchi's market, purchasing a plump orange from the display outside his door and continued on to the panetteria next door. After looking over the options, she selected a small loaf of sweet bread, which the proprietor then wrapped efficiently in paper and handed to her with a smile.

"My son – he come home today," said the baker in his stilted English. Bella had promised to speak only English with him to help him improve his skills.

"That's wonderful, Signore Puiia," Bella smiled, taking the wrapped loaf. "I'm sure you'll be glad to see him."

"He going to be a doctor soon, Miss Swan. You know he very, very handsome…" and he winked at her.

"Yes, I know," Bella said as she suppressed an amused smile. "Please give Carlo my regards."

And she tucked the loaf under her arm and walked to the door.

"He be here in the evening – come and I save you a special bread, just for you!" he called after her with a chuckle.

Carlo was a nice man – handsome, determined, kind. She had met him on several occasions and he had always treated her with respect and had invited her to a concert once and a festival another time. But Carlo, like every other man she had met in the last three years, always seemed flat. No one ever compared…

Once again, Bella quickly slammed shut the door on the past. Her mind never peeked into her room of memories because when she did, the pain came roaring out like a dragon, ready to slay her with its talons and fire. And she had worked too hard to build a new life to allow herself to be once again paralyzed by thoughts of what could have been.

Soon she arrived at the small third floor office and unlocked the door. The small sign on the door always gave her a thrill - _Cari Tours di Venezia_ – _Ladies Tours of Venice – Isabella Swan, Proprietress. _

The modest one-room office was dark as Bella set down her bag and loaf of bread. She crossed to the tall windows and pulled open the drapes, allowing the sunlight to stream in, brightening the two simple desks and chairs, the set of cabinets and the neat stacks of paper on the desks. She peered out one window, craning her neck until she could see it – San Marco Piazza.

The fact that she could see even a corner of what Napoleon called "the drawing room of Europe" from her office window gave her no small sense of satisfaction. She loved this office, and had from the moment she first knocked on the door, a letter of recommendation from the Clements in hand. A Mrs. Giorgio Favaretto, an Englishwoman twenty years widowed from her Italian husband, had been the owner then, and she took Bella on as an office girl. Bella answered correspondence, scheduled tours and kept the books.

Away from the office, Bella immersed herself in all things Venetian. She pored over history books, spent countless hours exploring the city, spent long evenings studying Italian grammar and practiced her shaky Italian boldly until she became fluent in the tongue.

Six months into her employment, her opportunity arose. With a group scheduled, Mrs. Favaretto lay confined to bed with a terrible cold.

"I can do it," Bella had promised her employer. "I will not let you down."

She was true to her word and within a year, Bella was giving tours exclusively and another young woman was hired to handle the office work. When Mrs. Favaretto approached Bella with a plan to sell her the business so she could finally retire, Bella jumped at the chance.

As Bella stood watching the people on the street below, the office door opened and a tall, fair-haired young woman with a wide mouth and bright eyes entered, carrying a canteen and a small stack of letters.

"_Buon giorno, Sofia_," said Bella, turning from the window.

"_Buon giorno,"_ replied Sofia. "Mama sent coffee," she said, setting down the canteen and letters and removing her hat. "She also said you must come to Sunday dinner. Papa is making _bigoli_."

"I wouldn't miss it," said Bella with a smile. "Tell her thank you so much." The Rovigatti home was always bursting with children, laughter and the smell of delicious food. She had felt overwhelmed on her first visit but had quickly been pulled into the warm knot of family and friendship.

Sofia bustled around the office, setting out two cups and saucers for coffee and pulling out a knife to cut the bread.

"From Signore Puiia's?" asked Sofia, a purposely disinterested look on her face, as she unwrapped the loaf. "Did he say – is Carlo home yet?"

Bella smiled. "He'll be home tonight. Maybe you should go to the shop tomorrow morning to get the bread."

Sofia shrugged, trying hard to look nonchalant. "If you'd like me to." She paused. "Unless you'd like to, of course."

Bella sat down in the chair opposite Sofia's desk and looked her full in the face. "No. I would very much like for you to get the bread, Sofia. Please."

Sofia set down the knife and returned her frank look. "Why are you not interested? Why not Carlo, or Adriano, or Nicoli? So many nice men, Bella, and not a second look for any of them? I don't understand."

Bella looked down quickly, surprised by the direct question. She studied her hands for a moment then shook her head as she stood. "It's just – I don't –" She shook her head again and straightened her shoulders.

"The mail?" she queried, wiping all traces of melancholy from her face. She took the small stack Sofia and looked at the envelopes, stopping at the third one.

"Oh! From Mrs. Favaretto!" she cried, immediately locating a letter opener and slicing open the envelope eagerly.

"I didn't see that!" said Sofia, almost as pleased as Bella. "What does she say?"

Bella scanned the letter quickly. "Her oldest granddaughter just turned eight…her son's business is doing very well…she misses the sea and Venice terribly, but is glad to be in Milan."

Bella read for a minute more, then smiled.

"_My dears, I do miss our little office but it warms my heart when I hear how well you are both doing," _she read aloud. _" Signore Rossi told me in his last letter that he is having a hard time keeping busy as all of the groups seem to want to book a tour with you, Bella. Watch and learn, Sofia. I have every confidence in your abilities, too, and soon you will be a more powerful partnership than you already are."_

"I miss her," said Sofia, wistfully.

"I know," said Bella. "I do, too."

The two women were silent for a moment.

"But she wouldn't be very pleased with you if you were late for this morning's tour. You should go," said Sofia.

"Of course," said Bella, and within a few moments, she was out the door and down the stairs.

Bella's shoes clicked rapidly across San Marco Piazza as she headed toward the Basilica where she was to meet her tour. She glanced past the end of the Piazza and stopped, squinting and lifting her hand to shield her eyes from the bright sun. A large ship – a British warship – was anchored not far out and rising from it was a large tethered balloon.

Over the last two years she had carefully studied the colorful flags of the many ships which came into port from all over the world. A year ago she had seen it for the first time, an observation balloon mounted on the stern of a British warship, its design unmistakable. From then on, nearly every Royal Navy ship which dropped anchor carried a balloon. Often she would see them extended high over the port with tiny gold-braided officers taking in the magnificent view.

"_Good for them_," Bella told herself, _"The venture was a success."_ But she cast her eyes downward to the worn stones and quickened her step, eager to get out of view of the balloon. Her eyes began to sting and the dragon in her mind began to rattle the door ominously. She braced herself by reciting facts to herself about the Basilica.

"_A church has stood on this site since 832, but the basis of the present Basilica was constructed in 1063, under the direction of the thirtieth Doge of Venice, Domenico Contarini. The Byzantine and Gothic structure was finally completed in 1617, and since 1807 it has been the seat of the Patriarch of Venice."_

And so Bella continued with the facts and dates, once again successfully keeping the dragon at bay.

**-xxx-**

Commodore Theodore Armstrong nodded briefly to the young sailor who had rowed him to the dock.

"I'll be back some time this afternoon," he said, walking up the narrow gangplank to the stone walkway above.

"Very good, sir," replied the sailor, who turned his attention back to the small watercraft.

Commodore Armstrong loved Venice. It had been nearly three years since he had last been to the city and that trip had been overshadowed by tragedy.

But time had helped heal the wounds, though he knew he would never be the same. _"Still,"_ he thought to himself, _"if I could only find what I am looking for…"_

It was like looking for a needle in a haystack, and he knew it. But the quest gave him purpose, helped him to face each day. And so he soldiered on.

He stopped at an outdoor café in San Marco Piazza, where he ordered a coffee and waited for it to arrive. The spring sun warmed his face and he closed his eyes for a moment, listening to the sounds of shoes on stone, the musical cadence of passing conversations. He almost began to doze when the voice of a young English woman pulled him from the edge of sleep.

"Of course, the most famous literary reference to Venice is in Shakespeare's play, _The Merchant of Venice," _the clear voice rang out.

The commodore's eyes opened. Something about that voice…he sat up straight and looked around until he located its source. Not far from the café a young dark-haired woman stood, a half a dozen well-dressed women crowding around her, listening intently.

"While there is no evidence that Shakespeare ever left England, his knowledge of Venice and its customs is quite astonishing," the woman said. Commodore Armstrong moved his head to one side – he could not see her face clearly.

"He accurately describes the Rialto bridge and other architectural details on famous structures such as the Doge's palace and the clock tower you see behind me."

As the woman moved to indicate the tower on the edge of the piazza, the Commodore managed a clear view of her face.

It was her – the woman he had searched for these last three years.


	24. Chapter Twentyfour

**Ok, first off – I know there was some confusion among some of you as to who the heck Commodore Armstrong is. He is NOT Edward going by a different name – he is the man Edward and James were dealing with at the Admiralty. He makes his first appearance in Chapter 11, was there for the balloon trials and was the man who quizzed Bella on her Shakespeare knowledge at the breakfast table. I had never referred to him by his first name before, but he is Theodore Armstrong.**

**Also, regarding the question of how many more chapters – I am thinking two more after this one, probably, but you never know how things develop. We are nearing the end, however.**

**I want to THANK EVERYONE for all of the awesome, awesome reviews. I'm sorry that I've been so lame about replying to reviews in the last few weeks, but we were all sick again here at House o' Plagues. Sick momma, sick babies, ack. And when I wasn't busy being Near Death, I was trying to write Chapter 24.**

**And I finally FINISHED IT. Eighty-five jillion thank-yous go to my really exceptional husband who spent many hours discussing the development of this chapter (when he wasn't taking care of all the kids while I lay in bed, telling myself I wouldn't be sick forever, or when he wasn't actually trying to work at his actual job), and who also spent many hours editing the overwrought, verbose first few drafts of this chapter. He saved this chapter, seriously.**

* * *

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

* * *

Was it her? He thought so, but he couldn't be sure. Quickly the commodore pulled several coins out of his pocket, placed them on the café table and walked out onto the piazza.

For a few minutes, he watched her from a short distance as she led her small group around San Marco's, pointing out the gothic arches that lined the piazza or details in the ornate façade of the Basilica. When the group entered the Basilica, Commodore Armstrong followed.

The cool, dark interior of the church contrasted with the warm spring morning, and the women in the group raised their heads in wonder at the golden Byzantine mosaics that covered every inch of the lofty, arched ceilings.

"It's marvelous, isn't it?" Bella asked the group in a hushed voice. She paused for a moment as a woman, bent with age and wrapped in a black shawl, passed and continued on to small bank of candles against the wall of the church. The woman lit a candle with gnarled fingers and stood silently watching the small flame.

"This place of worship has a rich tradition, dating back over a thousand years," Bella continued quietly, when the woman had moved on.

The commodore watched from several rows back, blending in with other tourists who stood gazing in awe at the opulent interior of the church.

For several minutes, Bella spoke to her group with a quiet confidence and ease that made the commodore wonder.

_Could this really be her?_ he thought._ Could this really be the same girl from Wrenfield Hall, the nervous girl who spilled water on Miss Winters, the same one who came alive that morning when I quizzed her about the Shakespeare quotes at the breakfast table? It hardly seems possible…_

But if it was her, he mused, she had come a fair piece from when he had last seen her. His mind went back to the Christmas ball more than three years ago…he had been standing in the hallway when Mr. Winters announced the engagement of his daughter to Lord Masen. The girl had stood gripping the doorjamb, her slight frame trembling in a black cotton dress and apron. The butler had moved swiftly to her side and helped her down the hallway, away from the cheers and congratulations to the new couple in the front hall. He caught a glimpse of her face as she was rushed past; it was white with shock and pain.

He didn't understand her reaction at the time, but he would later.

Now he watched and wondered. How had she come here? What had she made of her life? Was she alone? His eyes moved to her hand, but the gloves she wore gave no clues as to whether she was wearing a ring.

And was it really her?

Suddenly, a thought came to him.

_Shakespeare._

He moved out of the crowd of tourists he had mingled with and closer to the young woman and her group.

"As we approach the altar, note the altarpiece behind it. Crafted in gold and encrusted with jewels, its artistry can be seen down to the smallest details," Bella said, as the group walked to the front of the sanctuary.

"Is it truly gold? You know Othello said 'All that glitters is not gold.'"

Bella turned to see who had spoken and froze briefly when her eyes rested on Commodore Armstrong, standing at the edge of her small group.

In quick moment, she recovered.

"I'm sorry, but that wasn't Othello, it was the Prince of Morocco speaking in _The Merchant of Venice_. And I can assure you what you see here before you truly is gold."

_It must be her._

"Pardon my interruption," said the commodore, bowing slightly.

"Not at all, sir," replied Bella. "Please pardon my arrogance in correcting your quotation of the Bard. _'For I am nothing, if not critical'_ regarding attributions to his work."

_It is her, certainly._

"Ah, and now you do quote me _Othello._ I consider it an honor to be criticized by you, ma'am."

And he bowed his head again and took his leave of the group, as Bella stared after him.

Thirty minutes later, the small tour group walked back out into the Venetian sun, now at its highest point in the sky. As Bella bid the ladies goodbye and declined their kind offer to join them for lunch, the bells in the clock tower struck noon.

Free from her obligations, she found herself looking around the piazza. Could the Commodore still be there? Did he realize who she was?

_Don't be ridiculous,_ she told herself._ Why ever would he have remembered me after these years? Aside from the briefest of encounters at Wrenfield Hall and that one breakfast…we never spoke._

And yet her eyes continued to roam around the piazza.

_I wonder if the Commodore ever sees him…_

A voice behind her broke her thought.

"Miss Swan?"

She whirled around, her heart jumping.

"Please forgive me for disturbing your tour in the Basilica. I just had to know if it was you. Hopefully it was not too much of a disruption."

"Of course not, Commodore Armstrong," Bella said, trying to calm herself. "Though I must say, I am more than a little surprised to find that you have any recollection of me at all, let alone my name."

He smiled. "Well, I've met quite a few unmemorable servants, but _you_ left quite an impression, Miss Swan…if it still is Miss Swan?"

"What?" asked Bella, momentarily confused. "Oh! Yes, it is still Miss Swan. I have not married."

"And it would seem you remember me."

"Well, sir, I have only ever met _one_ Commodore," she said with a smile.

He returned her smile and paused, considering his next question. "Have you somewhere to be, or may I walk with you a while?" he asked.

"I have no obligations, sir, and would be happy to join you for a walk."

For a moment the two walked across the piazza, flocks of pigeons scattering before them.

"Do you work for a tour company here in Venice, Miss Swan?"

"When I first came here I did, but for the last year I've been running my own business, specializing in English speaking tours. I employ one other woman and am thinking of bringing on one more soon. Business has been very good - this is a rare afternoon that I'm not fully booked."

She blushed as she realized the Commodore was looking at her closely.

"Pardon my boasting," she said. "I did not mean to sound so full of myself."

The commodore shook his head. "Not at all, not at all. I would say congratulations are in order. You've really managed your life quite impressively."

Bella nodded. "Well then, I will say thank you."

"And how did you come to Venice then?"

Bella briefly told the story of meeting the Clements and how she accompanied them here, omitting the part where she stood, distraught, on the bridge.

"And when I got here to Venice, I knew this is where I would build my life. I knew I could be happy here."

They had stopped at the edge of the piazza and were looking out onto the Adriatic Sea. Highlighted against the horizon was the British warship with the balloon at its stern.

"Your ship, I assume?" she asked.

"Yes," he answered simply. "The _Inflexible_. We're out on training exercises. It's just luck that we were sent to Venice and that I find you here."

Bella's brow furrowed as though she were trying to understand his statement, but the commodore resumed walking and she followed.

"You don't recall the last time I saw you, do you?" he asked, when they had walked a minute.

"That breakfast, with the barrage of Shakespeare questions?" she answered with a smile.

"No," he said. "No, in fact it was the evening of the Christmas Ball at Wrenfield Hall. I was standing right beside you when the engagement of Lord Masen and Miss Winters was announced."

_His name!_ She had not heard his name out loud in three years, nor had she allowed herself to think of that dreadful night in nearly that same period of time. The combined effect of hearing both of them spoken aloud was like having a load of bricks dropped on her chest. For a moment, she could not breathe.

"I did not realize you were there," she finally replied in a voice just above a whisper.

"I was," the commodore said gently. "And I was there for all that happened afterward. Miss Swan, have you kept in touch with anyone from Wrenfield Hall?"

Bella shook her head. "No, I…I chose a new life here and there were…things I wanted to forget. It was easiest for me this way. Perhaps it was weak of me to do that, but I couldn't see any other way to move on."

She looked up and smiled ruefully at him. "I'm so sorry. You must be a little confused. It doesn't matter. It's all in the past. Shall we continue our walk?" She brightened artificially and picked up her pace.

"Miss Swan."

Bella slowed.

"Miss Swan, I understand…I think I understand all of it, and there is much that you need to hear. Will you listen to what happened after you left Wrenfield Hall that night, and what happened after you left London?"

"What do you mean, 'you understand?'" Bella asked quietly, still walking, not looking up.

"I understand about you and Lord Masen."

"How…?"

"He has told me. I have heard it all from him."

She stopped walking and looked up at the small bridge they were about to cross. Forcing herself, she picked up her feet and began walking again, up and over the small dark waterway.

_Is he well? Does he have children? Is he happy? Does he think of me? Does he love her? Did he ever really love me at all?_

Her unspoken questions swirled like black ink in clear water, the questions she had never allowed herself to think before. For the second time in a day, her eyes began to sting and she clenched her jaw. She would not cry.

"Miss Swan? Will you allow me to explain what I know?"

She slowed to a stop and turned back to Commodore Armstrong.

"I – I don't know, sir. It was all so long ago. I'm not sure what good could come of it."

"I think that largely depends on you, Miss Swan."

She lifted her eyes to him questioningly.

"Let's walk," he said, and she nodded.

Leaving the bridge behind, the two continued on to a small side canal and slowly got lost in a labyrinth of walkways and buildings.

"First, I understand that it might seem strange for this information to come from me, but you will soon see why."

"I had been invited to stay at Wrenfield Hall that evening, so I was there the following morning for one of the most uncomfortable breakfasts I have ever experienced. While the Winters family chattered away about wedding plans, flowers, dresses, wedding trips, the Masen brothers were strangely silent. James had the oddest look about him – an air of guilt or regret or something I didn't understand at the time, while Lord Masen – well, Lord Masen did not behave at all the way I thought a newly engaged man would. He was melancholy, withdrawn, uncommunicative. Miss Winters appeared not to notice and continued on like an excited bride-to-be. It was all very unsettling."

"One of the strangest things I remember from that morning was the food served – it was nearly inedible! Undercooked or burned, oversalted or completely tasteless. It was nothing like what I had come accustomed to at Wrenfield Hall. I heard Lord Masen mutter something about being 'punished by the staff' and he ate it without another word."

"I soon returned to London and celebrated Christmas with my own family. My wife had died three years before so it was just my daughter, her husband and I."

"I continued to see Lord Masen now and again over the next few weeks as we ironed out details of the contracts, specifications and production schedules. His demeanor remained largely the same as I had experienced since his engagement was announced. He only spoke when necessary, never smiled, and always looked as though he had just been handed a life sentence. In the meantime, I received an invitation to the nuptials of Miss Tanya Winters and Lord Edward Masen, scheduled to take place in early February. It seemed a short engagement, but the few times I saw Miss Winters and her mother it seemed that the wedding was all they could think or talk about, so I just assumed general excitement and eagerness explained the hasty planning."

"About a week before the wedding I was invited to the Winters' home for dinner. I was tiring of the endless meetings and dinners we were all enduring and I hoped that we could finally sign the damn contracts that night! It seemed every time we would get close, Mr. Winters would come up with one more angle that hadn't been explored, requiring another revision of the contract language, another round of meetings with engineers, attorneys, more officials from the Admiralty."

"My attaché, Lt. Geoffrey Cosgrove, and I arrived, contracts in hand, at the appointed hour and was shown into the drawing room. The Masen brothers were already there, being entertained by Mr. Winters. After several minutes of small talk, Lt. Cosgrove excused himself for a moment. I didn't think anything of it at the time. Shortly after he left, Mr. Winters asked us to come see his newly acquired billiards table and we followed him."

"As we entered the billiards room, we heard voices from the adjoining room – the door was partly open…"

"_Tanya, please! Reconsider! I've given it all up for you!"_

"_Geoffrey, really, are you thinking clearly? The wedding is in five days! The invitations are sent! It's too late!"_

"_It can't be too late! That's my child you're carrying! Mine!"_

"_But it will be Edward's and you need to get used to that idea. Haven't you noticed that not everything works out the way you'd like? Maybe if you weren't already married, if both of our lives weren't laid out for us…but this is what is and we'd better both get on with it."_

"_Tanya, I've already told Helen. Tonight, before I left, I told her about you, the baby, that I was leaving her. I have nothing to go back to! But now I see your true colors and I wouldn't take you if you begged me."_

"_Geoffrey, please…"_

"_I'm leaving," he spat out, "going to Australia, or America or somewhere else and that child will never know his father. He'll be a bastard child, living out his days wondering why he doesn't look a thing like that damned Lord Masen. And you'll live in fear all your life, wondering if and when I'll come back and tell the world you're nothing but a common whore who chose a title and prestige over a man who loved her. I hope that's what you want, because it's what you're getting now!"_

_Mr. Winters stood frozen as he and the other men listened to the escalating voices. Finally he snapped out of his trance and strode to the open door. _

"_Out of my house, you bastard. NOW!" he roared. A moment later, Lt. Cosgrove exited the room, his face pale, his pencil-thin mustache twitching. He gave Commodore Armstrong a quick glance but didn't break his stride as his pushed through and out into the hall._

_The men in the billiards room stood still, unsure of what to do next. Voices from the other room resumed._

"_Tell me the truth, Tanya – are you with child?"_

"_Yes." The answer was defiant._

"_And you expect Lord Masen to still marry you in this condition?"  
_

"_He doesn't know. It's still very early – he won't know and when the baby comes, I'll just say it was early, a big baby. He'll never be the wiser."_

"_You stupid girl!" he thundered. "He's in the next room! He's heard everything!"_

_Silence._

"_Are you certain?" she whispered. "Perhaps…"_

"_You've ruined everything," Mr. Winters said, his voice eerily quiet now. "I told you to put a stop to this business with Cosgrove and this is why! He had nothing to offer us. You'll have to go somewhere now, have this…child…and when you come back, alone, we'll see if anyone still wants you. Though I wouldn't count my chickens, Tanya. I wouldn't count on anything at all now."_

"_But father…"_

"_Go to your room. Pack. We'll need you gone as soon as we can find someplace to send you. Stupid girl…" he muttered._

_The sounds of soft sobbing came through the opened door._

"_Father…I don't want to go…I don't want to give up my baby…"_

_James looked at his brother and the commodore, both of whom were rooted to the floor. Suddenly, he moved to the door and entered the room where the Winters were._

"_I'll marry her," James said boldly._

"_What?" came Mr. Winters' voice, incredulous._

"_I'll marry her. Tanya, if you'll have me, I'll make you my wife. That child will be mine. I'll take care of you."_

_Silence._

"_You'd really have me, James?" Tanya asked, a note of hope in her trembling voice._

"_Of course-"_

"_He'll do nothing of the sort!" snapped Mr. Winters. "You are still going to marry Edward and be Lady Masen"_

_The sound of footsteps approached the door to the billiards room and Mr. Winters appeared, pulling a tearful Tanya by the arm, James following closely._

"_Well, Lord Masen, you've heard it all. But the wedding will go as planned. You still need the contracts to save Wrenfield Hall and those sorry farmers you care so much about, not to mention Trefoil house and your brother's neck. Without my influence all you will have is failure and ruin. So marry my stupid daughter, keep your mouth shut and we'll all soon happily welcome Edward, Jr."_

_Edward closed toward him but the Commodore stepped between them and turned to glare at Winters. "What should the ruin of a daughter's happiness mean to her father?" came Commodore Armstrong's quiet voice. "I know what my answer to that would be and you should as well. It means your influence has been spent - with me, and I daresay with confidence, with the Admiralty as well. I am through with you, Winters. I will no longer be complicit in your selfish compulsion to ruin the lives and happiness of everyone you touch."_

"_Mr. Masen. Lord Masen. I have the contracts with me. If you will come with me to my carriage, the Admiralty is ready to conclude our business. This has gone on far too long."_

_James, Edward and Mr. Winters exchanged stunned looks, then Edward followed the commodore out._

_James held his hand out to Tanya, "Let me try to make this right. Your child deserves a father who will love his mother." _

_A teary Tanya looked to her father then reached out to James and walked with him through the door. _

"_Tanya!" Mr. Winters bellowed. "He's not the right one! He has no title! Think of your mother, think what this will do to her!"  
_

"_Tanya! Come back here! Tanya!"_

Bella was stunned. They had stopped walking and were standing in front of a flower shop, the window display a riot of exuberant color.

"He – he didn't marry her?" she whispered.

The commodore shook his head. "No. He never married her."

Bella looked weak for a moment.

"Shall we find you a place to sit, my dear?" he asked kindly.

"No," said Bella, her voice stronger. "No. Please, go on."

"_Please pardon the close quarters," said Commodore Armstrong as James and Edward crowded into the commodore's carriage on the street outside the Winters' house. The carriage driver passed a small lantern into the cab, illuminating the sheaf of papers that the commodore produced from a small case. Heads bent, the three men made the necessary signatures._

"_Well that was long overdue," the commodore began, but then was interrupted by a knock on the carriage door._

"_Sir?" A young midshipman peered anxiously into the carriage. "Sir, there's been an incident at your daughter's house. You're needed there immediately."_

"Bella, when I got there. . . The doctor. . ." he started.

"I'm sorry, but my being here won't make sense . . . Why I _need_ to help you won't make sense if I don't explain. My daughter was still alive when I got there," he paused, "but it was too late."

"Your daughter? I don't understand." said Bella, her eyes filling with sympathetic tears.

"Lt. Cosgrove wasn't my attaché by accident. He was my son-in-law. His Helen was my Helen," he whispered, "My only child. She didn't think she could live without him – couldn't live with the shame of being left for another woman. So she ended her life."

"Sir…" Bella said softly, reaching for his hand. Commodore Armstrong gripped it and swallowed hard. His silver head turned up to the sky for a moment and then back at Bella. "I think about that night much less now. Much less."

He continued, "Lord Masen, your Edward . . . We had not been more than acquaintances until…Helen … but he called on me the next day. I had heard so many sympathetic words from so many -all well meaning - but something of his grief or sadness. . . I was able to let him into my confidence and he listened that day, for hours. Sharing that with someone. . . It had just happened . . ." Bella pulled both of his hands to her and the commodore stopped and looked up at her for a moment, finally smiling. "Of course, he eventually shared his story. Your story."

"Lord Masen was afraid that you…that you might make the same choice as my Helen. Of course at first I only knew you from your memorable command of Shakespeare, but your Edward loves you and, with grief as our common bond, I came to understand what was stake. I couldn't stand the thought that another young woman, someone who could actually _have_ happiness, might lose hope."

"So you, Miss Isabella Swan, with whom I had barely shared a dozen words, became my focus in those dark days," said the commodore, forcing a smile at Bella, who stood as still as stone, trying to comprehend what she was hearing. His eyes threatened tears so he moved on quickly.

"I suppose there are many reasons I became so involved Lord Masen's quest to find you, but the simplest is this: I couldn't save Helen, but I would try to save you. I needed something to live for."

"He had already begun to search for you immediately upon learning he was not to be forced into a marriage to save Wrenfield Hall and his brother. He learned from his housekeeper, Mrs. Cope, that you had found a position in London. He visited that house as soon as he received word and found that you had left abruptly days before, with no notice and no information as to your whereabouts. He contacted your friends the Webbers, but they had not heard from you, nor had any of your friends from Wrenfield Hall. It seemed you had vanished and Lord Masen was beyond sick with worry."

"He scoured London, day and night, walking the streets himself, inquiring in the grandest of homes and the lowest of public houses if anyone had seen any sign of you."

"Once it seemed clear you were not in London, Lord Masen and I expanded the search. For months he combed the countryside of England, stopping in every small hamlet and at every country home. He wrote letters, enlisted the help of his cousins and sent men to Wales and Scotland to look for you." He looked hard at her, "You must imagine how we felt, how Edward felt, when your goodbye letter to Mrs. Cope arrived when your ship made port in Barcelona. To know you were alive and to have some idea of where you might be going. . . I requested a command in the Mediterranean fleet, with my stated purpose of overseeing the training and equipping of our ships with the new observation balloons but, in truth, so I could look for you here."

Seeing Bella's surprise, he explained, "When our consulate in Barcelona found that you had left for Italy, Lord Masen felt sure that you might have come here. When did you arrive?

"July of 1879," whispered Bella.

The commodore gave a rueful smile. "I was here in June of that year."

"Lord Masen has been searching for you without rest for these three years. Last year it seemed that you had been located in Rome working at a girls' school, but when he arrived, of course, it wasn't you at all. He was devastated. He hardly spoke for the next three months – it was as if his soul had been crushed completely. I've never seen anyone in such a state."

Bella considered her words carefully before she spoke next.

"Commodore, you have convinced me of Edward's grief when he believed I might have lost hope and of his devotion to the cause of finding me. But I must ask," her voice shook slightly, "if he truly loved me, why did he agree to marry Miss Winters? Why was I discarded so easily? So quickly?"

The commodore shook his head.

"I do believe one of the things that haunts Lord Masen most, perhaps his greatest source of pain, is the idea that you might believe that he did not love you, that he willingly chose Miss Winters over you. I promise you, Miss Swan, that he never stopped loving you, never, never wanted to marry anyone but you, and that his engagement to Miss Winters was nothing short of blackmail. Not blackmail for anything _he_ had done – Lord Masen is truly a man of honor - but by threatening the livelihoods of his tenants, his mother's honor and the downfall of Wrenfield Hall."

"The night he came back to Wrenfield Hall, the night of the Christmas Ball, the loan had been secured and the contracts were on the verge of being signed – it seemed that he was going to be able to save Wrenfield Hall and everyone he cared about and still have his life with you."

"But that night, after Mr. Winters interrupted your dance, he made it clear to Lord Masen – marry Tanya or else expose his family's entire legacy to ruin. He was stunned and desperately trying to find a solution when the engagement was announced at the ball. And that's when he last saw you."

Bella looked tired and shaken. "Commodore, might it be possible to find a café where we could sit? I feel as though I need a moment to think."

Within minutes the two were seated at a small outdoor café, two glasses of lemonade sitting untouched in front of them.

Suddenly Bella turned away and she covered her face with her hands. All the commodore could hear were gasping sounds as Bella tried desperately to control her tears. Finally, she steadied herself and uncovered her face.

"He still wants me," she stated shakily, looking the commodore in the eye.

"Yes."

"And he is entirely unattached and free to make his own choices."

"Yes."

Bella nodded. Then she stood and began to leave the café.

"I'll need a few days to pack, and to find when the next ship sets sail. I'll need to talk with Sofia, find out if she feels ready to take the business, if not I'm sure I could arrange a place for her with one of the other tour companies here in Venice. My landlady will need some time to find a new tenant, so I think I should at least leave her with a few months' rent. A packing crate…I'll need one for my books, but most of my other things I can pack in a trunk. My furniture can be sold, I'm sure…"

Bella moved swiftly, scarcely aware of Commodore Armstrong, who was rushing to catch up with her.

"Miss Swan? Does this mean…?"

Bella stopped and looked at him. "Does this mean I am going back to Wrenfield Hall? Yes. I am going back for Edward and if I could fly like a bird I would have left already."

"Miss Swan," said the commodore, grateful that his long legs were able to keep pace as she moved like a woman on fire. "Miss Swan, I can offer you passage on my ship. We'll set sail in four days' time, back to England."

Bella did not break her stride. "Alright then, Commodore, I accept your kind offer. I will be going to my office now to begin to wrap up the details there. You cannot know how much I appreciate this, truly you cannot. I am –"

She stopped suddenly and turned to the commodore, wrapping him in a fierce hug. "I am eternally grateful to you, you dear man," she whispered in his ear. "I am sorry I am being so rude right now but all I can think of is getting back to my Edward. Three years is three years too long to be apart."

When she pulled apart from him, his eyes were once again wet with emotion. "I understand," he said quietly.

She smiled and paused for a moment, looking around at the canal, the terra cotta colored buildings, the flowers in the window boxes.

"I will miss Venice," she said quietly. "It has been so good to me."

"It is a lovely city," the commodore agreed, "a jewel."

"You know, being a Commodore has its perquisites and I am in a position to offer you a rare look at this jewel – from the sky. How would you like to go up in the balloon? A sort of farewell look at Venice? Our balloonist was preparing take me up this afternoon, and you would be most welcome."

Bella smiled. "What a wonderful offer, sir. I would be honored to ride in one of these famous balloons."

She took his arm and together they walked to the dock where the Commodore's launch waited to take them out to the _Inflexible_.

The salt air was fresh and invigorating and Bella found it hard not to stand and shout for all the world to hear that she was to be with her Edward again. She gripped her hands tightly, twisting them together in anticipation and joy. The happiness she had stopped hoping for three years ago was just within reach and she felt a thrill every second she thought of seeing her Edward again, his strong arms around her waist, her face buried deep in the warm crook of his neck, her fingers tangled in his hair, his voice whispering her name in her ear, the heat of his chest pressed tightly against hers, their bodies straining to wrap around each other even more closely…

She shivered in anticipation, disbelief, sheer happiness.

As they reached the ship, her eyes lifted to the white silk balloon at the stern.

"Ah, good, he's not up yet," said the commodore as he escorted Bella up the gangplank, "I'm sure he'll be pleased to take you as my substitute."

He led Bella to the stern where the balloon was tethered. A sailor was securing the winch that held the basket to the ship and he straightened and saluted to Commodore Armstrong as they approached.

"About ready to launch, Hawthorne?" the commodore asked.

"Yes sir. Just a few last minute adjustments."

"Very good. I've brought you a passenger. This is Miss Bella Swan – she'd like to take a look up there."

"Of course," Hawthorne said, bowing slightly.

"Miss Swan," said the commodore, "why don't you have a look around the back of the basket. You'll get a lovely view from that vantage point while they finish preparing the balloon."

"Thank you," said Bella. The commodore disappeared, indicating Hawthorne should follow.

She stood alone by the basket, placing one hand on it lightly. She smiled and then, following the commodore's suggestion, moved around the back side of the basket to the edge of the ship. An enormous pile of rope, nearly as tall as a man, stood to her right, coiled around a tall iron pole. She looked the mountain of rope and noticed a man's head moving just behind the rope. His hair was not neatly combed like the other men on the ship, but rather an untidy mass of reddish brown, though the tops were bleached nearly blond by the sun.

_That hair…_

Bella tilted her head to one side and her heart started to beat a little faster. The man's hand was visible now, holding a brass telescope, coming around the tower of rope. The fingers were long and slender, holding the telescope loosely.

His forearm came into view, his shirtsleeve rolled up, exposing tanned skin and well defined muscles.

Bella moved quickly now, around the mass of rope, until the man was in view.

"Edward," she whispered, as their eyes met.


	25. Chapter Twentyfive

**Alright! Here we are! **

**#1 – Thanks for being patient in waiting for this update. It's sort of tough to focus on writing some days with the four little kids – they're always needing, like, **_**food,**_** and **_**clean clothing,**_** and **_**stories, **_**and **_**attention.**_** Sheesh. Kids.**

**#2 – Thanks to the husband, once again, for the ideas, patience, discussion, edits and only occasionally making fun of me for all of this business. You can have Edward, I'll keep this guy.**

**#3 – Sorry if I didn't respond to your review or PM…just trying to keep my head above water here. We read them ALL and love them. It makes the effort worth it. xoxo**

**#4 – Speaking of water, thoughts and prayers to everyone affected by the earthquake and tsunami. My love to any Japanese readers.**

**#5 – Not that any of you know me or anything, but since I'm excited, I'll share – the ultrasound today showed that it's another GIRL who will be joining our family in July! That's going to make it four girls and one boy, for anyone who's keeping track. We are totally bonkers.**

**#6 – THANKS to everyone who has been recommending this story all over the place. I'm kind of amazed and it makes me smile. xoxo again.**

**Chapter Twenty-five**

Bella stared at the tall man in front of her with the sun-kissed hair and bronzed skin. The brass telescope he was holding clattered to the deck of the ship and rolled to her feet.

"Bella?" he whispered.

She nodded. "The commodore…he found me…" she started but felt her throat closing with emotion at her proximity to him.

Edward did not move, a look of caution slowly replacing the shock and surprise on his face.

Then he took a tentative step toward her.

"I have much to say to you, Bella…much to explain." His eyes held a mixture of nervous hope. "If I can beg you to listen, I hope that maybe you might understand…and then, if you wish, I will never bother you again-"

His words were cut short as Bella covered the short distance between them in a fraction of a second, throwing her arms fiercely around him and burying her face in his neck.

For the smallest moment he stood still and then he wrapped his arms tightly around his Bella, his cheek pressed to the top of her head, his eyes squeezed shut. His breath came in gasps as he tried to understand that she was here, in his arms.

Bella's grip on him tightened as he found her ear and whispered.

"Bella, please, I know why you left, but please, please, please don't ever go away again. I am yours, completely, if you'll have me, please, dearest, please never leave again."

The desperation in his voice was raw and his voice broke on the last words.

"I am so sorry…more sorry than you'll ever know and if you'll let me I'll spend the rest of my life trying to make up the years we lost…"

"Edward, hush," Bella said quietly. "I'm sure there is much to talk about, but just know that I am here and I am yours and I will never leave again."

He exhaled heavily, as if he had been holding his breath for a very long time, and he reached to her face, gently tilting her chin up to him. His eyes looked directly into hers before he bent his mouth to her lips and kissed her softly. She responded eagerly, raising her hands to his hair and entwining her finger in its softness, feeling where the ends of his hair had been stiffened slightly by the salty sea air.

For several moments, the couple stood, hidden behind the mountain of rope, reveling in the intensity of their reunion, thrilling at rediscovery of each other's physical presence.

"Edward," Bella breathed, when she finally paused for a moment, her face still being covered with adoring kisses, "you can't know how much I've missed you, how much I've ached for you…"

"I believe I can," Edward murmured against her skin. "Sweet Bella, I don't believe I've had a sound night's sleep in more than three years."

She smiled. "Do you remember the first time you called me sweet Bella?" she asked as her fingers brushed the soft skin behind his ear.

Edward's kisses slowed and he gave a small groan. "Of course…that night I came to your room after overindulging. I am still embarrassed."

"Please don't be," whispered Bella. "That was when I really began to hope that you might care for me the way I knew I cared for you."

"Do you know when I first began thinking about you?" he asked. "It was the day after you came to Wrenfield Hall. I had come back from a ride and I saw you through the window in the front drawing room. You were steadying a ladder for someone washing the windows. When I looked up and saw you watching me, it was as if your eyes were looking straight into my soul. After that I became…_aware_ of you. And of course, every interaction we had after that only pulled me in deeper."

"Truly?" said Bella, as she recalled the moment she first saw Edward in the light of day. "I can hardly believe you noticed me at all."

Her breathing came more rapid now and she found it hard to concentrate on anything as Edward's mouth moved down her neck to the hollow at the base of her throat.

"Edward," she finally whispered, "There are others on this ship…perhaps we shouldn't…"

Reluctantly, Edward pulled his lips from her skin.

"Of course, darling," he agreed quietly. "Pardon me, I just can hardly believe you are here, flesh and blood, in my arms. I've so often dreamt of this moment I find it hard to control myself."

"I look forward to the time when control is no longer needed," she whispered, her warm breath tickling his ear.

Edward pulled back slightly and began to shake his head, his eyes dark and wanting.

"Bella, you can't say things like that to me and expect me to maintain any restraint." He sighed and dropped his hands from her waist and searched for her hands until he found them. Bringing them to his lips, he kissed them tenderly.

"I have so many questions for you, darling!" he said with a sudden burst of energy. "Where have you been? Why did you not stay in contact with the Webbers or anyone from Wrenfield Hall? How did you come to be in Venice? How do you support yourself? Have you been happy? Did you miss me at all?"

Bella laughed quietly. "And I have questions that number in the hundreds for you, Edward. But we have time…thank heaven we have time now."

He wrapped his arms around her again, feeling her chest rise and fall against him, her head resting on his chest as if she had never left at all.

"This is happiness," he whispered.

Bella's eyes closed and she stood still for a moment, listening to the steady beat of his heart, melting into his strong warmth.

"Darling, would you like to go up in the balloon?" Edward finally asked. "Being up there…it's like nothing you've ever seen before."

"Mmmm…" Bella responded. "You know, that's how the commodore got me to come back to the ship, by promising me a ride in the balloon. Of course he neglected to tell me that you were here." She smiled at the thought. "He's a good man."

"Truly one of the best," he agreed. "He has been an incredible support to me these last three years, and I to him, I hope."

Edward pulled away but still held Bella's hand as he moved over to the balloon. Reaching for her waist he easily lifted her up and into the basket.

"Who will bring us up?" Bella asked, looking up at the cloud of silk above her head.

Edward turned to smile up at her. "I will. That's what I am doing here on this ship. In order for Commodore Armstrong to be able to bring me along I needed to be useful in some way so I learned everything there is to know about balloon aviation and I am training others along the way."

Within minutes, Bella and Edward were rising into the cool spring air as two sailors on the ship slowly unwound the winch.

"Unbelievable," breathed Bella as she looked at Venice, spreading out before her. "Oh! Edward, I can see my office from here!" she cried out, pointing with her finger.

"Your office?" asked Edward in surprise, turning to Bella.

"Yes! Look, over there at the Piazza San Marco – the first street above that to the right. Do you see that first building? The two windows on the corner on the third floor are my office."

"What…?"

"I have a small tour company – very small." She smiled. "It's just me and one other woman, Sofia." She reached into her bag and pulled out a small ivory-colored business card and handed it to Edward.

He traced his fingers over the writing on the card, listening as Bella explained how she came to work for Mrs. Favaretto and how the business was now hers.

"This is _your_ business?" he asked, looking at her with wonder.

"Yes, well it's very small and the office is just rented, but we're very busy and doing quite well."

Edward nodded, slipping the card into his pocket. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, staring out at the maze of red roofs and canals, and whispered in her ear, "Venice is certainly a wonderful city…a city I would love to call my home, Bella."

She wrinkled her brow and turned back to him.

"But Wrenfield Hall…" she began.

Edward shook his head. "I realized a long time ago that a house does not make a home, Bella, and as much as I love Wrenfield Hall, I love you more. Wherever you are is my home. If your life is in Venice, then I will come here. I can find a good man to manage the estate and we can go back to England and visit on occasion. But I'll not leave you."

Bella looked at him for a moment, then pulled him close, covering his mouth with hers.

"Edward," she said when she broke away. "Thank you. Thank you for giving up so much for me, thank you for valuing my work. But Edward – the only thing I want more than being with _you_ is being with you at Wrenfield Hall. It's your family home and I want to be part of your family – in _our_ home. And though I've tried to pretend otherwise, I miss my friends! I miss Lizzie and Mrs. Cope and the Webbers and Angela. Angela might have a whole brood of children now and I don't even know them! And Lizzie – I missed her wedding and she probably has a child now and it pains me to not be a part of her life."

"I love Venice, I do, but I have always longed to return to England – and to Wrenfield Hall. Even when I buried those feelings, they were there. Let's go home, Edward."

Edward smiled. "Alright, sweetheart. But we can come back to Venice anytime you wish."

"That would make me very happy. I do have friends here I care for, and I love the city."

"Will you take me to your office, Bella? And can I meet your friends? I have missed out on so much of your life, I want to know where you sleep and what you eat, your favorite places to walk and what you have read…"

"I think I could be booked for a tour," she smiled, "but don't expect it to come cheaply."

He returned her smile as they turned back to face the city. His arms wrapped around her waist from behind, and he sighed as he rested his chin on the top of her head.

"Tell me about your family, Edward," Bella said, as she leaned back into him. "How is Carlisle?"

"He has improved but he is not the man he once was. Esme watches his every move and hardly lets him lift so much as a soupspoon but I don't think he minds so much. He is happy to still be with his family."

"And Alice?"

He laughed. "She's Alice – with twins! I had never seen a woman so possessed with preparations for the arrival of a baby and then when it was two she and Jasper were beyond thrilled. The babies are two now and Alice and Jasper are – well, they're tired!"

"What about Emmett and Rosalie? Are they well?"

"They are well now. Rose was with child last year but lost the baby unexpectedly. She and Emmett took it hard but after a few months they were able to move beyond the sadness. They hope for another child but in the meantime Rose has thrown herself into charitable work with a home for foundlings in London. Truth be told, I wouldn't be surprised to return to find that she and Emmett have taken one of those children home as their own."

"And James," Edward asked, "how much did the commodore tell you about him?"

"He said that he offered to marry Miss Winters when he discovered her…condition, but beyond that, nothing."

Edward sighed. "My brother had been difficult for years, as I have told you, but there was much more to it than I shared with you. It was his problems with gambling and opium that led to my necessary association with the Winters family and nearly forced the marriage between Tanya and I."

He pulled her even closer to him.

"While I was most assuredly not going to marry Tanya once there was a way out for me, I couldn't understand why James was so quick to offer to take her as his wife, considering her conniving nature and how her family very nearly destroyed ours, but he did his best to convince me . . ."

"_James, are you certain? This is where you want to hang your hopes for happiness?"_

_James looked at his brother with eyes that showed both weariness and excitement and shook his head._

"_Believe it or not, Edward, I've loved her for two years now, but she never seemed to see me as anything but an amusing partner for cards or someone to laugh with at a party. Once she – or her father – decided it was you she wanted, I knew I didn't have a chance in hell."_

"_I know it's a risk I'm taking, marrying her, but I think I might understand her in a way that no one else can. I'm not a particularly good man, Edward, that's no secret. You've always been Abel – I've been Cain. But now I think this is my opportunity to do the right thing and maybe even win the love of the woman I've wanted for years. And I will raise this child as my own, I can tell you that. We've had a good example in that regard, haven't we, brother? Perhaps I do have a little of Father in me after all."_

_He shrugged. "At any rate, at least I won't have to be tortured by watching the two of you try to make a go of a marriage and failing miserably. If this ends in unhappiness and ruin I can at least be assured that I tried."_

"_Where will you go?" Edward asked quietly, his face turning to the flickering light of the fire in the hearth of the Trefoil House drawing room._

"_We'll go to China, I think , and work on securing the steady supply of silk we'll need for the factory. If we stay there long enough there won't be more than a few raised eyebrows when we return with our baby. People will talk, but I think we can weather that storm."_

"So they are in the Orient?" Bella asked in amazement.

"Yes, and with three children now! Perhaps having twins is a family specialty because shortly after she had her first baby, she was with child again. But this time, she and James had two. James talks in his letters of their returning to England soon but I don't know when that will happen."

"All these babies…" murmured Bella quietly. "So many blessings."

Edward straightened and turned Bella so she was facing him. "I want to give you everything you want, Bella, and if you want a baby, we'll have one. If you want a dozen babies…well, then we'll have a dozen! We might need to take on a few nannies, I would expect."

Bella laughed. "Yes, I want babies, but let's not start interviewing nannies just yet, darling."

"Of course," Edward smiled. "And I understand something has to happen before the babies can come, anyway." 

Bella raised one eyebrow at him. "Well sir, that's very forward of you," she said teasingly.

Edward reddened slightly and shook his head. "That's not what I was referring to, Miss Swan…although it is a lovely thought…"

He took a deep breath and slowly lowered himself to one knee on the balloon basket floor as his hand reached into his breast pocket.

"Isabella Swan, I have carried this with me since before we parted, hoping against reason that I might someday be able to kneel and offer it to you - the woman for whom it was always intended."

Unfolding his hand, he revealed a platinum ring. Its deep blue sapphire was surrounded by smaller, glittering diamonds.

"I have always thought you were lovely in blue," he said quietly, his eyes fixed on hers, "and when I saw this ring I knew it, like my heart, belonged to you and to no one else."

"Will you marry me?" he whispered.

Bella immediately fell to floor of the basket, throwing her arms around Edward's neck and kissing his forehead, his cheeks, his closed eyes and finally his lips.

"Yes!" she said. "Yes, yes, yes!"

**-xxx-**

Minutes later they were again standing, their arms wrapped contentedly around each other, floating in their own world high above the Venetian landscape.

"I feel as though the whole world is before us," said Bella.

"It is, sweetheart," replied Edward, pulling her closer. "It truly is."

**OK! Hope it was satisfying enough, considering its citrus-less (unless you use your imagination…) nature. **** There is one more chapter, just to sort of wrap it all up with a pretty bow (hah! I accidently typed "with a pretty boy"….yeah, well that, too…). **


	26. Chapter Twentysix

**And you all thought I had abandoned the story!**

**Nope, still here, still working on it. Still super-pregnant, still chasing after my other four kids, still trying to keep my head on straight... Despite all that, I PROMISE (super-duper-double swear PROMISE) that I will finish Wrenfield Hall, and before this baby comes. We have a deadline, folks, and I will stick to it.**

**And if YOU are still inclined to read this chapter, despite its seriously tardy debut, I thank you. I'm sure it must have been quite annoying to get invested in a story to have it stall so rudely for two months now!**

**With that said, I thought this would be the last chapter but it turns out I had a little bit more to say. I think this is the second-to-the-last chapter. Pretty sure. :)**

**One more bit of business - if I were to write a sequel (IF - if, if, if) how interested would people be? Two things regarding that - one, it would be at least six months from now before I could realistically even think about starting to write again (babies...sheesh). Second, and here's the biggie, it would NOT center around Bella and Edward. They would be important, but I envision picking up the story about twenty years down the road - when there are grown children who are getting ready to spread their wings and fly. Remember, there are several babies already born in this next generation who are not all biologically related (hmmm...where might that lead?) and who might be doing very interesting things around the turn of the century. Thoughts? HONEST thoughts? I know people read FF for the ExB romance, but my mind is branching out...**

* * *

**Chapter 26**

* * *

_Renee and Charles Swan stood at their doorstep, smiling and waving at their only daughter as her carriage rolled away from their small cottage. Bella pushed her head from the window and craned her neck to watch as their figures receded away. Her eyes filled as she gripped the carriage and leaned out towards them._

"_I love you!" she called through her tears. "I love you both! I'll see you again!"_

_Her mother placed her hand over her heart while her father blew her a kiss with one hand and pulled his wife close with the other._

"_Goodbye!" Bella cried, her voice a mixture of grief and joy. "I will be happy, I promise! I promise!"_

"You promise what, darling?" Edward's voice was low in her ear as Bella's eyes drifted open. She was nestled securely under his arm, her head resting on his chest as their carriage rattled along.

"Oh…I must have been dreaming…" she whispered into the smooth fabric of his traveling coat. She breathed deeply, taking in his scent, a mixture of sandalwood soap and coal from the earlier train ride to St. Mary's village from London. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" he asked, brushing a stray lock of hair from her face as he looked down at her. "For falling asleep? Take me at my word, having you sleep in my arms is one of the great pleasures of my life and I don't believe we'll have the opportunity again until we are man and wife next week. Forgive me for enjoying this while I can."

He bent his head to hers and kissed her forehead softly.

"But we are almost home, Bella."

She straightened and peered out the window. The summer afternoon had begun to fade into evening, bathing the tree-lined road in rosy-orange light. She held her breath as she looked through the gaps in the trees to the fields beyond where lush waves of golden wheat grew, and further still to a tidy farmhouse where climbing honeysuckle hung heavily over the door.

"It's beautiful, Edward," she said quietly.

Edward nodded, squeezing her hand as his eyes followed where she looked. "It looks to be a good year," he said. "I'll be anxious to visit Del Hughes and the Leatherby brothers to see how their farms are faring."

Bella turned to Edward and smiled. "You're happy to be home," she stated softly.

Edward dropped his head and nodded. "I would have been happier than I could have hoped for to be with you in Venice, but to have you and be back at Wrenfield Hall? Saint Peter would have a hard time convincing me that heaven has anything better to offer."

Bella laughed and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. "I'm happy to be home, too."

The carriage rounded the last bend and suddenly Wrenfield Hall was in view. Bella gave a small shake of her head as she studied the massive stone structure.

"You know, when I first came here years ago I was so intimidated…I felt so small and out of place. But now," Bella smiled as she pulled Edward's hand further into her lap, nearly hugging it with excitement, "now it feels like I'm seeing an old friend."

**-xxx-**

Bella sat, drumming her fingers on the desk in the front drawing room while her leg bounced restlessly. Her letter to Sofia had been sealed and addressed and awaited transport to the village for posting. The book she had been reading lay discarded in the armchair across the room, and though it held her interest for an hour, she could not make herself pick it up again.

She stood and crossed the room to look out at the front lawn and the curved drive. Edward was not expected back for at least an hour from visiting with several of the tenant farmers. Not for the first time she reminded herself that she needed to learn to ride so she could take a horse out, too, and explore more of the estate.

She wasn't tired, so a nap was out of the question. In fact, Bella felt fairly bursting with energy and hadn't a thing to do.

The first several days back at Wrenfield Hall had been absolutely lovely – like a dream. She and Edward had walked for hours, taken picnics, read to each other in the shade of the ancient oak trees, ate beautiful meals by candlelight and played cards and chess late into the evening.

But the holiday had to come to an end eventually. Edward had much to attend to with the estate and Bella encouraged him in his responsibilities. She loved Wrenfield Hall too and wanted to make sure it was being properly managed.

She hadn't counted on the boredom, though! Alice had arranged the wedding weeks ago, when she first got the letter announcing that Bella had been found and they were returning to England to be married, so there was nothing for Bella to do to prepare for the wedding next week. Alice would be arriving tomorrow with an entire wardrobe for Bella's new life as the lady of the house, and though the latest fashions held only a mild interest for her, she couldn't wait for Alice and the diversion of her company.

But for now, Bella needed something to do!

_Bradford…_ she thought, and after a glance a room to ensure its tidiness and a quick fluff of the pillows on the chaise, Bella left the drawing room to seek him out.

She found him in the small china room, pulling out dishes for the evening meal.

"Bradford!" she said with a smile, joining him.

"Ma'am," Bradford said respectfully, with a slight bow.

"Oh for heaven's sake, Bradford!" Bella said, turning pink. "Don't start calling me ma'am now. I'm the same Bella who helped you dust these very dishes not so long ago."

"Ah, but you're not," said Bradford with a small smile. "You've come a long way, Miss Swan. Just look at your dress – that's not a housemaid's frock you're wearing."

Bella looked down at the satin charmeuse dress that had been waiting for her when she arrived at Wrenfield Hall.

"Well, I have Alice to blame for this," she said with a shrug. "It is pretty…"

"It's lovely," said Bradford. "Far too lovely to be soiled with any of the work we have here. Besides, I'm finished with these dishes, so there isn't anything left to be done."

"What about the silver…surely there's something that needs polishing?"

Bradford smiled and shook his head. "Out of the question, ma'am," he said, raising an eyebrow at the dress.

"Oh. Well, please call on me should anything come up that I can help with."

"Absolutely," said Bradford, bowing as she left.

Bella gave a small sigh as she moved down the hallway and poked her head in the library which remained her favorite room in the house. A girl in a telltale black dress, apron and cap stood on a ladder, dusting one of the upper shelves of books.

"Hello," Bella called. The girl looked down, startled, and immediately began climbing down the ladder.

"Oh, please, no," Bella began but before she could protest further the girl stood in front of her, curtseying.

"Really, that's not necessary," said Bella, her brow wrinkled. "You know, I used to do exactly what you are doing. I used to work here, as a maid."

"I've heard,ma'am," said the girl shyly.

"If you need any help…" began Bella but stopped as the girl's eyes grew wide.

"Of course not, ma'am," replied the girl, shocked. "You couldn't!"

Bella was taken aback. "Well I _could_," she said, trying to keep the offended note out of her voice. "It's been a few years but I do remember how to wield a duster."

The girl blushed. "I'm sure you're able," she said quickly. "But, ma'am, if Mrs. Mallory came in here and saw that I allowed you to help me I'd never hear the end of it."

"Besides," she said, glancing at Bella's dress and the small pearls in her ears that Edward had given her as an engagement gift, "you really aren't one of the staff anymore. You're…well, you're to be Lady Masen."

Bella nodded slowly. "Yes, of course," she said quietly. She turned to leave but then turned back once more.

"What is your name?" she asked the girl.

"Harriet."

"Do you like to read, Harriet?

"A bit. I haven't had much opportunity."

Bella smiled. "Would you like to borrow a book?"

"From…here?" Harriet asked in surprise.

"Of course."

"But I wouldn't have any idea of what to choose…"

Bella walked over to the bookcase and after a few moments she pulled a book from a shelf.

"Here. It's called _Little Women_ and it's by a wonderful American author, Louisa May Alcott. I think you'll like it very much. Just return it when you're finished."

Harriet took the book in her hands and looked up at Bella.

"Thank you, ma'am," she said with a smile.

"I shall pass your thanks along to Lord Masen," said Bella, and she left the room.

Bella walked slowly through the grand rooms of the mansion. Everything was in order, as neat as a pin.

_Perhaps Mrs. Cope…_she mused and changed her course for below stairs.

The kitchen was its usual buzz of activity, with Mrs. Cope stirring two saucepans at once as she instructed one of the kitchen maids to take a white cake out of the oven.

"Mrs. Cope?" said Bella as she stepped tentatively into the kitchen.

"Ah! Miss Swan!" said Mrs. Cope, a broad smile on her face.

Bella stared. _Miss Swan?_ In an instant, her eyes filled with tears.

Mrs. Cope's smile dropped from her face and she turned to the kitchen maid who was setting the hot cake on a table to cool.

"Ginny, take over here, would you? When the hard sauce has thickened take it off the flame but keep an eye on the soup."

Quickly Mrs. Cope made her way across the kitchen to Bella's side. "Take a walk with me dear?" she asked quietly, and the two women left the room.

A minute later, Bella and Mrs. Cope walked out the back door and into the warm summer afternoon. Bella sniffed loudly and Mrs. Cope silently handed her a handkerchief.

"What's wrong, dear?"

"Miss Swan? Why on earth would you call me that?" burst out Bella. "I'm just Bella, you know that better than anyone! I can learn to deal with Bradford calling me ma'am, or the housemaids curtseying to me when they're probably wearing an apron that I myself wore three years ago. But you? Please, Mrs. Cope! Please don't do this to me!"

"Oh! Oh my dear girl!" and Mrs. Cope enveloped her in a maternal hug while Bella continued through her tears.

"I've nothing to do! I love to read but I can't sit around all day doing that, or my needlepoint. Bradford won't let me help with anything, the maids won't let me touch a dust rag, and you are calling me _Miss Swan_!"

She sniffed again. "It's not that I really miss waxing the floors, because quite truthfully, I'm glad to be done with all that. But I need something to do! I've worked so hard, been so busy for the last several years that I can't just sit idly, with nothing to do or think about but what to wear to dinner."

She pulled away from Mrs. Cope and sat down heavily on a wooden bench beneath a beech tree.

Mrs. Cope joined her, putting her arm around her while Bella rested her head on her shoulder.

"Bella dear, let me first explain why I called you 'Miss Swan.' I _do_ think of you as Bella, always. But the reality is you will be Lady Masen in a few short days. You will be the lady of the house and you will need the respect and loyalty of your staff. If I call you Bella in front of them, it will make it difficult for them to see you in the proper light. But I promise

you, when it's just us, you will be Bella."

Bella mulled over Mrs. Cope's explanation as she continued.

"And really – what lady of the house sits down to mend the kitchen linens or polish the silver? It just isn't done. That is one of the things you will have to learn to accept as mistress of Wrenfield."

"Bella, I promise you, this is just a time of adjustment. You'll find something to do – something important and fulfilling and worthwhile. Just do your best to enjoy your days until you know what that is."

Bella nodded slowly and wiped her eyes. "I suppose you're right." She looked up at Mrs. Cope and smiled. "And really, I am so thrilled to be home and I cannot wait until Edward and I are married. I feel like there are so many good things yet to happen, I just need to be patient until I get all of my feelings sorted out."

Mrs. Cope patted her knee. "You'll be fine, dear. I know it."

**-xxx-**

"One of her best meals, really," remarked Edward, exhaling slowly as he opened the door for Bella as they retired to the drawing room after dinner. "It's amazing what that woman can do with a humble chicken."

Bella laughed. "I don't think that particular chicken was exactly 'humble.' I watched one of the stable boys chase it around the yard for a good twenty minutes before he caught it this morning. It seemed to take great pride in having its head still intact."

Edward joined her laughter as he closed the door after her and followed her across the room where she stood.

"I had no idea you'd be so amused by the show the livestock puts on. I guess I'll have to try harder to entertain you," he said, sliding his arm around her waist and pulling her down on to the chaise with him.

"Well, the entertainment I envision has little to do with being chased around the yard," she murmured as she wound her arms around his neck and lowered her head to his.

"I believe you underestimate just how much we might both enjoy the thrill of pursuit," he said in a low voice, his fingers running down her spine.

Bella shivered as she angled her body closer to him. "Lord Masen, I do believe you are taking liberties to which you are not yet entitled."

"And for that," she whispered against his lips, "I say thank you so very, very much…"

The teasing in Edward's eyes was gone in an instant, replaced by a hungry look that Bella knew so well.

"Bella," he whispered and their mouths came together.

Finally Bella pulled away.

"I know, I know," said Edward reluctantly, trying to calm his breathing. "Just a few more days."

Bella gave a small smile and pressed her forehead to his. "Believe me, it's as hard for me to stop as it is for you."

He gave a laugh. "Are you certain?" He sighed, kissed her cheek and moved her to his side.

"I suppose I should find something else to occupy my mind or I might not be responsible for what I do to you." He stood.

Bella reclined on the chaise, lifting one arm languidly above her head and resting it on the pillow behind her. "Alright. I'll just enjoy myself watching you from here."

Edward looked at her and shook his head. "Darling, you really are trying the limits of my restraint."

Bella opened her eyes wide, feigning an innocent look. "Whatever do you mean, sir?" she said, stretching her body even more across the tufted furniture.

"Bella…" Edward warned.

She winked at him.

In a flash he was at the chaise again, attacking her neck with passionate kisses while she giggled and made a pretense of pushing him away.

"Really, Edward, _most_ inappropriate," she breathed out through her laughter, and, though it was a struggle, she finally sat up.

"Now," she said, straightening her dress and smoothing her hair. She stood and extended her hand to Edward who lay dejectedly on the chaise. "Up and off to your desk."

Edward groaned and finally stood, taking Bella's hand. Primly she led him to his writing desk where he sat obediently and stared at the leather blotter for a moment.

"I'm sure there was something I was going to do here, but I really find myself so distracted," he said with a smile.

"Patience," whispered Bella in his ear. "Next week will come soon enough." She kissed his cheek and returned to the chaise with the book she had been reading earlier.

After a moment Edward straightened. "Ah, yes. The books. They need a good going over and I'm not sure I'll have much time between now and the wedding, so I'd better get to it."

He stood and pulled two large leather-bound volumes from a shelf behind him and set them on the desk, opening one.

Bella sat up, interested. "May I see?"

Edward looked up with mild surprise. "By all means. This will all concern you too, soon enough."

She joined him at the desk.

"There are two ledgers," Edward explained, indicating the books. "This one is for household expenses and upkeep to Wrenfield Hall, including staff salaries, kitchen expenditures and so forth. The other is for the rest of the estate – taxes, rent from farmers, profit from the sale of crops, charitable expenditures and myriad other things."

Bella leaned over Edward's shoulder and examined the open page with its neat lines and columns.

"Interesting…" she murmured.

**-xxx-**

Edward stood outside the drawing room, his head tilted toward the door. As he listened silently, the shadow of another figure in the early morning sunlight caught his eye. He lifted his head to note the arrival of Bradford who was looking at him quizzically.

Edward lifted his finger to his lips and motioned for Bradford to join him. For a moment, the two men stood quietly at the door until Bradford broke the silence.

"What are you listening for, sir?" Bradford whispered, looking mystified.

"Shhh…she's still in there," was the reply.

Bradford waited another quiet moment. Finally, he spoke again, his voice barely audible.

"Who, sir?"

Edward paused, still listening. "Bella."

"Oh."

Another minute passed.

"Is she alright, sir?" whispered Bradford, looking concerned.

A slow smile spread across Edward's face. "She wonderful. She's been in there all night with the estate ledgers. So far she's straightened out one rather large accounting mess that has confounded me for the last two years and has moved on to analyzing crop profits over the last three decades related to which fields they were grown in. She's also mentioned looking into new tax laws she read about in the Times which might benefit the tenants and, of course, the estate as a whole."

Bradford eyebrows were raised to heights Edward had never imagined possible.

"Well." Bradford paused. "Some tea, then, perhaps?"


	27. Chapter Twentyseven

**Once again, my sincere apologies for the eons that have passed since my last update. My same excuses still apply – four little kids and a baby due to arrive in 10 days (not to mention a brother getting married in 9 days – oh yeah, it's that crazy around here). But, as I have promised, Wrenfield Hall WILL be finished before my Baby Annie comes! It's on the list of "to do" items, along with packing the hospital bag, finishing a sewing project for the wedding and cleaning out the closet in the baby's room. You know, important stuff.**

**Also, once again, I must explain that I **_**thought**_** this would be the last chapter, **_**for real.**_** But then I got writing and realized I had just a bit more to say, as always. But the ACTUAL last chapter is plotted out and will be finished in the next few days. Prrrrrromise! My husband is going to hold me to it (oh yes, he's looking out for you guys).**

**One last thing. Someone out there nominated WH for an Avant Garde award (thank you, whoever you are!) and the voting ends today, June 26, 2011. So, it's super last-minute for me to make my appeal for votes, but please do if you are so inclined. Wrenfield Hall is nominated in the Best Love Story category (awww) and the website is www . avantgardeawards . com - or just google avant garde awards. It's pretty easy to find.**

**I'll be back SOON with the last chapter. FOR REAL.**

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**Chapter 27**

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"It's perfect."

"Really?" Alice's face shone with excitement as she stood next to Bella, taking in their reflection in the large mirror in Bella's room. "I confess, this dress started out as something entirely different, with Madam Meunier and I each trying to fit in each of the latest fashions from Paris in one garment. But the more pleats and ruffles we added and the larger the bustle grew, the less it looked like something a bride would wear and more like an elaborate dessert!"

Bella laughed as Alice sighed dramatically. "So, in the end, we pared it down to what you see before you – what I hope is more to your taste."

From across the room came a short huff of laughter. "Alice, the first incarnation of this gown was a monstrosity. No woman would have ever consented to wear it, whether she was familiar with Parisian fashion or not."

Alice wheeled around and fixed Rosalie with a sharp eye. "It wasn't _that_ outlandish, Rose," she said defensively. "We just had a lot of good ideas that couldn't all fit together in one dress."

"Really?" said Rosalie, as she stood from the silk armchair on which she had previously lounged. "Those sleeves? With three tiers of different lace and the puffs that would have reached Bella's ears? That was a good idea?"

Alice opened her mouth to reply then closed it again as a chagrined smile threatened.

"Alright. I confess," she said, rolling her eyes good-naturedly, "that was a bit much."

Rosalie raised her eyebrows at her sister-in-law but said no more.

Bella smiled at the two women then reached for Alice's hand and squeezed it. "Well, whatever the process was, I'm thrilled with the result and I can't thank you enough. It's more than I ever could have hoped for."

Alice's eyes sparkled as she gave Bella an enthusiastic yet ginger hug, taking care not to muss the ivory silk dress or veil. "You're a beautiful bride and my cousin won't be able to take his eyes off of you tomorrow."

Bella's heart gave a quick jump at Alice's words. _Tomorrow!_ Tomorrow she would stand in Wrenfield Hall's rose garden in front of God, family and friends and become Edward's wife. For a brief moment she imagined taking his hand as Reverend Webber said the words that would join them in the eyes of the church, looking at her beloved's face as he promised to love her –

Her thoughts were interrupted by a knock at her door followed by the timid face of Harriett, the new housemaid, peeking into the room. "So sorry, ma'am, but could Mrs. Hale please come? One of the twins has taken a tumble. He's right enough, not to worry, but he wanted his mummy for a kiss."

Alice rushed off to her little boy and Bella found herself standing uncomfortably with Mrs. Emmett Cullen – her soon to be cousin.

"Well," said Bella quietly after a moment. "I suppose I should take this off."

Her hand reached up to her long lace veil and began searching for the heavy silver comb that held it in place. Rosalie watched for a moment as Bella's fingers fumbled, then she stepped forward and carefully began to detach the headpiece.

"Thank you," said Bella, still quiet.

"Mm," said Rosalie as she laid the veil carefully on the dressing table. Then she turned and began undoing the tiny pearl buttons that trailed down the back of the dress.

"I believe I owe you an apology," said Rosalie, finally breaking the silence. Bella lifted her head in surprise.

Rosalie eyes stayed focused on her task. "I wasn't very…sympathetic…when I first heard of Edward's distress at losing you. To my mind, Miss Winters was a far more suitable match for him and the idea of someone of Edward's status chasing your ghost all over creation seemed ridiculous to me. I thought he should have stayed at home and found someone new, someone of his class, his breeding, his equal. I was quite frankly rather embarrassed for him."

Bella stood still.

"But then something happened to me," Rosalie continued. "When I lost my baby, I was six months along. Besides Emmett, I had never loved something as much as I had loved that baby. And I had never – _never_ – lost something that dear to my heart. I was nearly destroyed, Bella."

Rosalie's voice was very quiet now.

"For the first time in my life I felt a loss so deeply that I feared I might be pulled into darkness from which I would never emerge. I thought of Edward and felt a kinship to him I did not expect. We were both in mourning of sorts. I see that now."

The buttons finally undone, she stepped around in front of Bella and carefully began removing the dress from Bella's shoulders. Bella watched her, but Rosalie never lifted her eyes.

"I knew I had to do something with my days or of a certainty I would get lost in my grief, perhaps forever. That's when I started my charitable work at the Brixton Home for Foundlings. And really I couldn't believe what I found. I fell in love with those babies. I fell in love with babies who I never would have let my own baby play with, never would have let my son dance with at a ball, babies I would have employed in my home and to whom I would have never given a second thought."

Rosalie finally faced Bella. "I was wrong for what I thought about you, Bella, and I'm sorry. I may never be like Alice, who always sees the person and never what society says about them, but I'm…learning. And I hope you will help me with that."

Bella paused for a moment, then smiled and leaned forward to wrap her arms around Rosalie, who stood stiffly, then slowly returned the embrace.

"Thank you for telling me that, Rosalie," Bella whispered. "I believe we'll have a lot to learn from each other."

Rosalie sniffed quietly as she pulled out of the hug. "I haven't told anyone this yet, but last night Emmett and I finally decided to adopt one of the babies from the home. We both wanted to, badly, but I've been afraid of what people will say. I'm going to need the support of my family now more than ever."

Bella reached out and squeezed Rosalie's hand.

"You have it, cousin, wholeheartedly."

**-xxx-**

_I could get accustomed to this,_ thought Bella, happily, surveying the scene around her. The remains of a picnic lunch lay on the blanket before her on which Jasper and Alice reclined, contentedly eating bits of cheese and strawberries as they watched their twins playing with Rosalie and Emmett. Little Rebecca shrieked with laughter as she rode on Emmett's broad back, her uncle throwing his head back and whinnying like a crazed horse. In the shade of an ancient oak tree, Rosalie sat with Philip, his hair as black as his mother's, while the two quietly examined a small bug that was crawling on a blade of grass.

Behind Bella, Carlisle dozed in the late summer sun while Esme sat beside him in a matching chair, reading a book and occasionally glancing up to smile at her family.

"Would you care for a walk?" The low voice at her ear made Bella blush and she looked up into the deep green eyes of her Edward. He smiled and extended his hand to her and together they walked through the grass and wildflowers toward the cool grove of trees at the edge of the field. Silently they entered the dappled shade of the tall beeches. Bella raised her eyes to the green and gold canopy above her but Edward quickly backed her against a smooth tree trunk, pulling her arms around his waist and bending his face to hers. His breath was sweet against her cheek and she felt her eyes fluttering shut.

"I've missed you," he whispered. "I love having our family here but it certainly has made it difficult to find a moment alone with you."

Bella smiled, opening her eyes slightly. I'll admit to some frustration too, but it hasn't been _all_ bad, wouldn't you agree? I do believe you enjoyed that moment in that narrow corridor."

"I will confess if you press me to do so." He smiled back.

And what about last night?" She closed her eyes again and lifted her lips lightly to his. "If I recall, when you lured me into the pantry . . . checking the inventory, was it? . . . we managed to find another nice moment alone, would you not also agree?"

Edward's breath came faster as he spoke, his mouth moving against hers.

"I again willingly confess," he smiled, "it has been a burden from my mind to know that everything is in its proper place."

Edward placed his hands on either side of her neck, his thumbs brushing the soft skin below her ears.

_Tomorrow… _thought Bella, though she found herself falling deeper into the exquisite sweetness of the kiss.

Reality shook her awake as shouting filtered in from beyond the outer edge of the grove.

"Did you hear that?"

"It's Emmett," Edward answered, reaching for Bella's hand. Together they hurried out through the trees to the edge of the field where Emmett stood.

"It's James," said Emmett, a look of surprise on his face. "He and Tanya have just arrived."

**-xxx-**

"Oh, thank you so much for your kind welcome," gushed Tanya, kissing a stunned Bella on the cheek. "It's so wonderful to be back in England! We've missed it so, haven't we, James darling? Hong Kong is simply _fascinating,_ but to be back among our own people…well! It's so comforting!"

Tanya gave a broad, satisfied smile as she looked at the faces of the Cullen family who politely stood in the great front entry of Wrenfield Hall, bewildered, as a steady stream of manservants carried in trunks and cases from James and Tanya's carriage. Two harried governesses herded three small, tired-looking children into the drawing room where Mrs. Cope had sent a plate of cookies and a pitcher of cold milk.

"We'd been meaning to come home, of course, and when we received word of the upcoming nuptials, we couldn't stay away, now could we? Congratulations were certainly in order for our dear brother Edward, and they must be made in person, mustn't they?"

"Of course…" murmured Esme.

"And you!" cried Tanya, turning to face Bella again. "I simply _had_ to give you my best wishes, since we are to be sisters now! Oh! Isn't it all so exciting?"

Bella nodded, her eyes still wide. She quickly regained herself and smiled. "And how was your trip, Mrs. Masen?"

"Oh please!" Tanya waved her hand. "Call me Tanya, Bella dear! Well, it was, of course, long and I wished it to be over before it even started, but we are here now, aren't we? But we have so much to discuss! Tell me all about the plans for the wedding! Is your dress in the French style? I do hope so, it's all the rage now."

Tanya hooked her arm through Bella's. "Walk with me, Bella, so we can reacquaint ourselves."

Edward looked at Bella with concern as the two women walked down the hall, but with a quick glance, Bella assured him she was capable of handling the formidable Tanya Masen.

"Alice, Rose, come with me to the drawing room," said Esme. "Let's introduce the littlest cousins to each other." And with that, the men were left alone.

Edward, James, Carlisle, Emmett and Jasper stood awkwardly for a moment in the front hall as the silence grew. Finally, Carlisle spoke.

"I've got something I wanted to attend to in the library, gentlemen. If you'll excuse me?"

"I'll come with you, Father," said Emmett and both he and Jasper made a hasty exit following after Carlisle.

For a moment, neither Masen brother spoke.

"Well, it certainly is a surprise to have you here, James," said Edward, finally. "After I sent you the letter from Italy and received no reply, I did not expect to see you at my wedding."

James waved his hand breezily. "Ah, yes. Well, the time was right for us to return and so…we did!"

He flashed a quick grin. "How about a drink, brother?"

Edward nodded his assent and soon the two men were seated comfortably in the study, glasses in hand. For the next half hour, they talked of the successful expansion of the silk factory and the profitable relationships James had developed with some key government officials.

"All in all, Edward, our time in Hong Kong has been extremely beneficial. Tanya didn't mind it as much as I feared – in fact, I rather think she might have enjoyed herself. She fancies herself quite an expert on Chinese antiquities and thinks she might singlehandedly bring English society back to an affinity for Chinoiserie. She's become quite a Sinophile."

James smiled as he poured himself another drink. "Not to mention that she became quite involved in the Ladies' Missionary Society in Kowloon and spent a good deal of time pushing tracts onto the misguided heathen."

Edward's face registered surprise and James laughed.

"I know, brother, but it seems that the troubles that brought my wife and I together forced her into some soul-searching and that was the result. Don't worry, though, that she's changed too much. Her zeal for correcting their errors in theology still seems eclipsed by her well-meaning crusade to save them from their errors of fashion. But as long as she's happy, I'm happy."

Edward shook his head and smiled. "I'm glad to hear it, James. And the two of you…? How are you faring?"

"Ah!" said James, a satisfied look on his face. "Well, my wife may have embraced her pious side but that hasn't caused her to completely abandon her other talents, if you understand my meaning."

He winked at Edward, who refused a reply.

James laughed. "She's as much of a devil in the bedroom as I ever hoped she would be, I can testify to that. In fact, I have plenty of wonderful advice to share with you on the eve of your own nuptials, advice that can, I _assure_ you, bring the greatest pleasure-"

James stopped short as Edward held up his hand and shook his head. "Thank you James but Bella and I may have to forgo the benefit of your words of wisdom and explore some mysteries alone."

James shrugged and leaned forward in his chair.

"Fair enough," he said. "But I do have something I can bestow on you that I'm _sure_ you will be interested in." He reached into his breast pocket, pulled out a folded document and handed it to Edward, who took it with a questioning look.

"It should explain itself," said James innocently, taking another sip of his drink, "assuming you've kept up with your French.

Edward unfolded the paper, read it quickly, glanced up at his brother and then read it again.

"I don't understand," he said finally. "What is this?"

"It _is_ exactly what it _appears_ to be," said James, lighting a cigar.

"A certificate of adoption? Are you saying that father actually adopted me all those years ago in France?"

"Apparently so."

"How…?" Edward began. "Where did you find this? How did you get it?"

"I know some people," said James, stretching out his legs and drawing on his cigar. "I cabled my man in France and told him to find an adoption record from around the time of mother and father's marriage. He's never failed to find any document I've asked for, and I was not surprised to find that his well-compensated record remains intact."

Edward looked suspiciously at his brother who returned an innocent expression.

"What? Why are you looking at me like that?" said James. "You are legally father's heir and legally Lord Masen. It's all there, spelled out as plain as can be."

"Spelling is only part of the problem, James. There are at least three spelling errors in this certificate that I can see. You never were very good with your French lessons."

James sighed and took the paper from Edward, glancing over it quickly. "Yes, well I'm sure that can be fixed easily enough. Besides, no one ever needs to see this. It's just for _your_ peace of mind, Edward, to keep with the other documents should you choose to keep them at all. But as far as I'm concerned, this is indisputable evidence of what _I_ believe, that _you_ are the rightful Lord Masen and no one can ever take that title from you."

"James…"

"Edward!" James said sharply. "This is for you to keep and do with it as you will. It is my personal wedding gift to you, _Lord Masen_. You are the gentleman of Wrenfield Hall, just as father intended. You need not spend another minute's worry on the legitimacy of your position."

"Now will you please put it away so we can get on with the evening? You'll be a married man tomorrow and I know you think you don't need my advice in regard to marital relations but I beg to differ. I say let's get Emmett and Jasper in here and make sure you don't disappoint that sweet fiancée of yours tomorrow night."

He slapped his hands on his thighs and stood up, striding towards the door. Edward slowly followed suit.

"James?"

James turned, his hand on the doorknob.

"Thank you," said Edward quietly. "Thank you for this gift."

James looked at him and nodded solemnly. "Anything for you, brother."


	28. Chapter Twentyeight

**Oh hey! Anyone still reading? I know it's been forever since I posted and I know I broke a few promises in regard to posting the last chapter (sorry! sorry!) but I have the best excuse in the world – she's ten weeks old now and has big blue eyes and is raaaawther possessive of my time. She wants, like, ALL of it, day and night. Seriously.**

**Ok, so I have three requests for anyone who has read and enjoyed Wrenfield Hall. **

**#1 – Remember that T rated stories can be good and give other ones a chance too – even write your own! Don't forget that if Twilight was a fanfic, it would have been rated T, and we all love us some Twilight (obvs). Alright, off soapbox.**

**#2 – If you read this whole story to the end, give me your reaction (please). I've never been one to ask for reviews (and I myself am quite terrible about reviewing, so I understand if you aren't much for reviewing), but if you have a minute here at the end, drop me a quick review. I'd love to hear your thoughts.**

**#3 – I think I may be writing a sequel to Wrenfield Hall, which may or may not be posted on this site. If you want to read it, no matter where it's posted, PM me with an email address and I'll make sure you know where it's posted. THIS IS IMPORTANT: fanfiction . net does not allow email addresses and websites to come through on PMs, so you have to write out your email address like this: janedoe (at) hotmail (dot) com. Don't worry, I won't send you any spam or anything – I wouldn't even know HOW to do that!**

**Also, THANK YOU from the bottom of my heart for reading and to those of you who reviewed or sent me messages encouraging me to FINISH THE DANG STORY, an extra special thank you. I read every single review, just couldn't reply.**

**Lastly, the biggest thanks goes to my husband, beta and co-writer (some of the words you read in this chapter are his). He's been such a dear to not only put up with this but to encourage it and make it far better than I could have made it on my own. As a side note, since he feels I cheated you ladies out of the lemons, he's threatening to write his own Wrenfield Hall fanfic. Soooo…yeah, I'll let you know how that goes.**

**xoxo, Charlotte (and all my babies…)**

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**Chapter 28**

* * *

Bella sighed contentedly as she pulled the soft bed linens around her more tightly. It was after midnight and her mind still buzzed from all the excitement of the evening, as her women friends had gathered for one last night with Bella as an unmarried woman.

The evening began respectably enough, with special desserts sent up from the kitchen while Bella, Angela, Lizzie, Alice, Rosalie, Esme and even Tanya gathered in the drawing room and chattered excitedly about Bella's dress and how beautiful the rose garden looked in preparation for the next day's event.

As the night wore on and Esme excused herself to bed, the sweet wine flowed as did the conversation.

"_Really?" teased Lizzie, her cheeks flushed and her eyes bright. 'The entire voyage back from Italy and you and Lord Masen managed to restrain yourselves?"_

"_Lizzie!" cried Bella, her face pink, as the women around her giggled. _

"_I believe you," said Angela, patting Bella's hand. "Well done. However…" she smiled mischievously, "given your general lack of knowledge on the subject, perhaps all of us married ladies here might give you some helpful hints for your wedding night."_

"_Oh my heavens…" murmured Bella, as she covered her face with her hands, much to the amusement of the gathered party._

"_Well!" said Tanya importantly as she straightened up and prepared to take the stage. "As a woman who has managed to bring three children into the world in the last three years, I feel I might have some wisdom to share regarding the sacred nature of the union between a man and a woman in order to bring more of God's souls to earth – "_

"_Oh pshhh," said Rosalie, rolling her eyes as she poured herself another glass of wine. She sat down on the settee where Tanya was perched, forcing her to move to the side. "Bella doesn't need to worry about child-bearing just yet. She and Edward need to enjoy themselves and I'm sure we can all give a little advice in that regard. Am I right, ladies?"_

"_Well I do believe – " Tanya began again, but she was drowned out by the titters and giggles of the others as they all began talking at once, eager to bestow on the bride their knowledge of the mysteries of married relations._

_Bella looked helplessly at Mrs. Cope, who had just entered the room with a plate of freshly baked lemon tarts._

_Mrs. Cope winked and smiled at Bella, leaning down to whisper in her ear._

"_Just listen and learn, dear. You can thank them later."_

Alone in her bedroom, Bella felt her cheeks flush as she thought of the nuggets of wisdom shared by her friends. Did Alice really mean that she should try…? And Rosalie's suggestion...how would Edward react to that? It wasn't something Bella had ever dreamed of, but the thought of it made her heart speed up and she bit her lip as she stared at the darkened ceiling, imagining…

A soft knock at her door made her literally jump in her bed and she sat up quickly, her heart beating faster and her face warming even more than before. Hastily, she left her bed and opened the door to find Edward standing in dark trousers and a white shirt, a lamp in hand and a small smile on his face.

His smile faded, though, as he looked carefully at Bella's face in the lamplight.

"Darling? Are you alright? You look…startled."

Bella shook her head quickly. "No!" she said brightly. "I mean yes! I'm fine!" Her eyes gave an involuntary glance down his lean frame and she pressed her lips together.

_For heaven's sake, Bella, _she told herself. _Keep your eyes on his face and your mind clear. Stop imagining…_

But the harder she tried to push aside the images that were forming in her head the hotter her face felt.

Edward continued to look at her curiously but eventually shook his head. "Well if you're sure you're well…"

"Absolutely," said Bella with conviction. "But Edward, what are you doing here? You know it's bad luck for you to see me before the wedding."

"Ah, I know, sweetheart," he said, pulling her close to him, "but I was missing you so terribly and I had to see you just for a moment. This will be my last clandestine knock on your door and I've so loved our nighttime visits. "

Bella allowed herself to melt into his side and suddenly all of the suggestions and advice that had sounded so foreign earlier in the evening felt more than appealing…natural, even. She found herself humming happily as she wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his chest.

Edward returned her embrace tightly and the couple stood silently for a minute in the dark corridor, the glow of the lamp enveloping them in a soft halo.

"I had another reason for my visit," Edward whispered into Bella's hair as his fingers brushed down the side of her face. "I have a special gift for you and I want to show it to you now."

He smiled at her surprise and shrugged, "I'm impatient, I expect."

Bella returned the smile and reached down to take his hand. "Alright then, Lord Masen, lead the way."

Hand in hand, Lord Masen and his bride padded softly through the halls, jumping slightly when the clock in the front hall struck one and finally approaching the library.

They entered the library and as Edward lifted the lamp to illuminate the back wall, Bella stopped short, drawing her breath in quickly.

"Is that – did you really – how did you get it?"

Bella's voice broke on the last words.

Disengaging herself from Edward's clasped hand, she stepped forward toward a humble black bookcase set alongside the rich wood of the built-in library cabinets. Almost reverently, she reached a hand out toward the simple shelves.

"My father's books…" she whispered through her tears.

Edward stood back, watching her as she lovingly ran her hands over the spines of the books. Finally, she turned to face him.

"I paid your cousin, Mr. Newton, a visit after you left," he said. "I missed you so desperately and I wanted anything that had any connection to you. I knew you had read and loved them all and I had to have them with me. He was persuaded to sell the books and even the bookcase and I had it all brought here. I've read every volume a dozen times." He stopped and smiled. "Now I want to return them to you as your wedding present."

Bella closed her eyes, her lashes making soft shadows on her tearstained face.

"You amaze me, dear Edward," she said, circling his waist with her arms and kissing his neck softly. "This means more to me than all the jewels in the Tower of London. It's as if I have a piece of my father again."

Edward exhaled slowly and kissed the top of her head. "I'm so glad, darling," he whispered.

Bella squeezed quickly and then released him, turning her attention again to the bookcase. For several minutes she studied the books, occasionally crying out in recognition and delight.

"_Westward, Ho!,_ Edward! I loved this book! My father read it to me when I was thirteen and my head was filled for months with thrilling ideas about the high seas and the kidnap of dear Rose by the Spaniard. Oh! _Tom Brown at Oxford._ My father bought this for me after I borrowed _Tom Brown's School Days_ from the master at school. I didn't like _Tom Brown at Oxford_ quite as well as the first book, but I still read it several times."

"And Edward, look!"

Edward recognized the thick volume that Bella slid from the case and held up to the light. It was Jacob Burckhardt's _The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy_ - the book that first brought them together.

He smiled, deep contentment radiating from his face.

"It's where it belongs now, Bella – where all these books belong – here with you. In our home."

Bella smiled back. "It's absolutely perfect. Thank you."

Edward studied Bella for a moment in the lamplight, her face tilted down as she looked at the book she held in her hands, her long, dark braid contrasting sharply with her white nightgown. He didn't think he could love her any more than he did right now.

"I love you," he whispered. She looked up, still smiling.

"I know," she said.

He waited a moment and then spoke again. "Before I deliver you back to your room for some much-needed sleep, darling, I have one more thing for you."

Bella looked both surprised and curious as Edward stepped into the shadows to the oak table in the middle of the room. As he returned to the light, Bella stared curiously at what he held in his hands – a small rag doll.

"When the bookcase was moved from the wall by my men, this doll was found hiding behind it. It looked as if it had been tucked in there years ago, in a little space made by this broken side board."

"I don't even know if it's yours…"

"My Annie!" Bella cried, taking the little doll from Edward's hands. Tears welled up yet again as she took in the stitched face, the gingham dress and the little white linen apron.

"I used to hide Annie behind the bookcase in this little spot. I pretended she was a squirrel and this was her tree-hole – I must have forgotten her in there one time."

Bella sniffed quietly. "My mother made her for me."

Edward nodded. "I wondered." He watched her as her fingers traced the outline of the doll's friendly, primitive smile and wide eyes. After a moment she stepped closer to him and rested her head against him.

"I wish I could have met them, Bella," he said. "I wish they could be here to see the woman you have become."

Bella smiled into his chest. "I think they know," she whispered. "And thank you, thank you for bringing a piece of them into our home."

Edward kissed her forehead and wrapped one arm around her, his other hand still holding his lamp. Its glow spread out around the new family they were creating – the family of Edward and Bella Masen.

**-xxx-**

Morning dawned bright and clear and Bella was up as soon as she heard the birds outside her window. She felt surprisingly rested, despite her late night with Edward in the library and she fairly danced to her wardrobe to select a dress for breakfast.

Her hand reached for a pale blue dress as she heard an energetic knock at the door. She had scarcely turned to look when it opened and Alice flew through the door, an excited smile on her face and a satchel in her hands. Following her was one of the housemaids, carrying a tray overflowing with breakfast foods. Rosalie rushed in behind her with a small bag.

"We're here!" announced Alice setting down her satchel and closing the wardrobe doors. "No need to get dressed, we'll breakfast in here and then you're straight to the bath. We'll need the time for your hair to dry. Rosalie, will you please put the soaps and perfumes in the bathroom? Harriett, will you draw the bath?"

Alice began unpacking the satchel enthusiastically, pulling out combs and ribbons, bottles and jars. After a moment, she turned to see Bella standing hesitantly at the edge of the room.

"Bella! Dear girl, we must get moving – I've only a few hours to make you the most beautiful bride Wrenfield Hall has ever seen! Breakfast!"

The wary look on Bella's face gave way to a smile as she took in the scene around her. Yes, this was her family now. She belonged here at Wrenfield Hall with these women. With an amused sigh, she sat down to a plate of eggs as Alice prattled on.

"I know we discussed putting curls in your hair for the wedding but I don't think that's really_ you_, Bella, dear, do you agree? I was thinking of something more like this…"

**-xxx-**

Edward stood in the center of the rose garden, smelling the perfumed air as he looked out at the assemblage of family and friends who had gathered at Wrenfield Hall for the wedding. Esme and Carlisle held a place of honor near the front of the bowery of roses where the ceremony would take place, and, excepting Alice, who was still with the bride, their children and spouses were seated around them. The other chairs were filled with Masen family friends from London and from neighboring estates and Bella's friends from the village. Even the staff was seated, looking happily at ease in their Sunday best. Bella had insisted they attend as guests and Edward had been more than happy to agree.

"I don't know, Edward," whispered James, who stood at his side. "The garden is lovely and the flowers really are quite appropriate for an occasion of this import, but I feel that we're missing something out here – the décor is a little…boring, wouldn't you say? I think it could use…I don't know, a monstrously large African creature standing up behind Reverend Webber?"

Edward nearly snorted with laughter at his memory of this morning's surprise. A curiously large crate had been delivered from the village after arriving on the early train. He and James had craned their necks as the front panel was pried away and then stared in astonishment at the angry glare of a stuffed rhinoceros, glassy eyed and ready to charge, nestled in a mountain of packing grass. A note hanging from its impressive horn read, "Best wishes from Africa to my dear Lord Masen and your lovely bride. I wish you every happiness and look forward to calling on you in the future. Warm regards, Charles Winters."

"Well, consider yourself lucky," James had noted wryly, between chuckles at Edward's disbelieving face. "We opened an enormous crate he had shipped to us in Hong Kong and it turned out to be a giraffe! It didn't even fit through the front door."

"He's done quite well for himself down there in Africa after being shunned at the Admiralty and nearly everywhere else in London. He slunk off in shame but now seems to feel the need to share proof of his African 'conquests'. He must be under the illusion that sending memorable 'gifts' like these will get him back into the good graces of everyone he stepped on in his scramble to the top." James had said, "I don't think he's gotten over the humiliation of his fall. He's still desperate to repair his reputation and redeem himself to London society."

"That explains the hippopotamus the Commodore said showed up at his home," laughed Edward, "although, even an elephant wouldn't have been enough to repair that relationship."

"If Armstrong didn't like it," James whispered, "perhaps he brought the hippo with him to pass along to you as his wedding gift? Have you seen any other large crates in with the gifts? We could put it up there with your rhino."

"I'm just terribly afraid Alice couldn't possibly be convinced that your safari vision for this ceremony will fit in with what she's planned here." Edward smiled, "You know her . . . ever the traditionalist!"

Suddenly a hush fell over the crowd, pulling James and Edward out of their nervous banter. The littlest Cullen cousins skipped excitedly into view, scattering rose petals haphazardly over the lawn and laughing with each other. The smiles of the crowd turned to awe, however, as a slender figure in white appeared under the rose-laden archway.

Edward held his breath.

Bella approached with a quiet confidence, smiling as Commodore Armstrong led her solemnly to the front, his own eyes glistening.

And then she was at his side. Bella looked up at Edward through the gauzy film of her veil and all of her beautifully arranged wedding finery melted away. He did not see her in the maid's cap and apron of years past, he did not see her in the smart dress of a Venetian businesswoman. He did not see her in the elegant gowns of recent days and he did not see her in her simple cotton nightgown, as he had seen her more times than anyone would ever know.

He simply saw her.

**-xxx-**

The round moon shone quietly over the fields and fences of Wrenfield Hall, a bright disc of marble in a black sky. The pure white light filtered through the woods and onto the small stream that meandered through, its watery song hushed by the masses of lush green leaves and grasses that grew in abundance at its banks. On the small stone bridge that spanned the stream sat two dark figures, their bodies so entwined they appeared as one.

"Mmmm…your hair still smells like orange blossoms," murmured Edward quietly as he buried his nose in his wife's silken tresses, winding his fingers through possessively.

"Did you like the blossoms in my hair today?" Bella asked, her voice slightly breathless as she felt his fingers eagerly exploring her neck, her shoulders, her face. "Alice says they're terribly fashionable for weddings these days…"

Edward nodded as his head dipped down and found the curve of her neck, trailing his lips along her white skin. "Lovely…but I look forward to your usual scent of lavender. It's my favorite in the world."

Bella drew in a breath as his head moved further down her collarbone, her chest…

"Is it?" she whispered. "I've always loved it, but I didn't know you noticed."

Edward laughed softly. "It's been my favorite since the day I smelled it in your room, almost four years ago. Did you know I told Thomas to put in a large bed of lavender the following spring? We'd never grown it here before but now I can't imagine the gardens without it."

She smiled in the moonlight. "Thank you, Edward."

"And speaking of rooms – and beds," he said, quietly in her ear, "I do believe we have both of those waiting for us. This nighttime walk has been wonderful, but I'm feeling like it's time we reacquaint ourselves with our accommodations."

Bella giggled. "Dear husband, it's only been a short while since we _left_ that lovely bed. Do you really think there is more to be done there?"

Edward gave a low growl and quickly swung her up over his shoulder, standing and walking quickly off the bridge in one smooth movement.

"_Yes_, dear wife, I believe there is much, _much_ more to explore!" and he broke into a run, his arms clasping her firmly to him.

Bella shrieked with laughter and clung tightly to his back, her thoughts alive with the delicious possibilities of the soft bed back at Wrenfield Hall.

In a moment, Edward and Bella left the wood and came to a field, still and silvery in the moonlight. The far edge of the field gave way to manicured lawns and gardens.

Edward slid Bella carefully down and set her gently at his side, keeping her hand tightly in his. Together they looked silently at the massive stone house, its great windows dark save for the occasional lamplight in a bedroom window.

"I remember the first time I saw this house," said Bella softly. "It seemed so cold, so imposing, so intimidating. I couldn't believe that I was actually to live there."

"And now?" asked Edward, watching his new bride intently.

"Now…now it is home. I wouldn't choose to live anywhere else."

He gripped her hand and she squeezed it back. He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and together they walked in the moonlight through the field and across the soft, cool lawn back to Wrenfield Hall.

THE END.


End file.
